Broken Things That Can't Be Fixed
by DoctorMerlinReid
Summary: Through his entire life, there is no response to the words that Steve writes on his arm, no response through the soul bond that allows soulmates to communicate. It's in a different time when someone finally responds. SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR. SPOILERS FOR ENDGAME.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I love me my soulmate AUs, so here's another one. It was hard thinking of the perfect fandom and pairing for this, but I like this one. It's kind of a strange ship and there's some definite underage stuff going on, but… I don't know. I like it. There's angst by the way. AND SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR. SPOILERS! Just so you know :P Alrighty, read, review, and enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything Marvel.**

SSSSSS

Steve had always been under the impression that his life was pretty good. It wasn't the easiest life – he was dirt poor and constantly sick and he didn't have many friends, - but it was still a good life. He had his wonderful, beautiful mother and his best friend Bucky. They made it through everything together and nothing seemed quite so tough with them fighting with in, always in his corner.

But there was one blight on his life, one single thing that made life a little less bright than it could have. His soulmate.

The soulmate process was sort of complicated, but easy enough when you grow into the idea. You were connected to another person through God's will. Through His will, you were able to communicate with this soulmate through your skin. The words you wrote to each other would stay imprinted on your skin until the day you died. So, for example, if Steve wrote, "the sky is pretty today" on his arm, it would show up in the exact same spot on the arm of his soulmate. There were a few exceptions, of course. The words didn't transfer over if the other person was dead, which made sense. Also, (this was the most complicated part) you couldn't write anything about yourself or your location. Steve would never be able to write Steve Rogers or Brooklyn or Bucky Barnes's best friend or super skinny and sickly with blonde hair. It wouldn't transfer over and would just disappear from his own skin within moments.

Still, there had to be a way to easily identify a soulmate. So, there was a symbol unique to each person. When a person is born, the outline of the symbol or picture or whatever would be on some spot on their skin. When their soulmate touched that specific spot on their skin, the mark would color in and the soulmate would be identified. The soulmate had to touch that _specific_ spot, though. Steve had heard stories of people who had gone years being best friends with their soulmates and not knowing that they were connected in that way until they got touched in that certain spot. Luckily, the touch could be transferred through clothing. If not, then Steve would have a problem. His was just to the side of his chest, partially under his arm and partially along the bottom of his ribs.

Although, it really wouldn't matter anyways. It just brought Steve back to his problem. His soulmate wouldn't respond. No matter what Steve wrote/drew on his skin, there was never a response. He knew that his soulmate was still alive because the soul mark turned entirely black when a soulmate died. That hadn't happened yet.

At first, Steve thought that his soulmate just hadn't been born yet. Then he was ten and starting to wonder at the age gap. Then he was twenty. Then he was twenty-five.

And he just kind of… gave up wasn't the right phrase. He would never give up on his soulmate, but he stopped trying. He stopped writing to and drawing for his soulmate. If the soulmate wasn't going to answer, then he wasn't going to bother. Until his soulmate decided to finally respond, then that person was going to get the same silent treatment that Steve had been receiving for over two decades.

There was no way that his soulmate wasn't born at that point. There had never been a recorded age gap between soulmates that was this large. _Never_. Steve highly doubted that useless little him was the first one to break that pattern. He just wasn't good enough for his soulmate to respond. That was fine. He could deal with that. He had Bucky and he had the war and he had a country to fight for. That was enough.

He ended up in the army, meeting and falling instantly in love with Agent Peggy Carter. He survived the super soldier serum and he survived being an actor to raise morale. He survived going into enemy territory alone and rescuing all those people. He survived the war and he fought and he loved, and, for a while, everything was fine.

Thoughts of his soulmate faded away until he honestly wasn't sure that he would ever care if they decided to respond or not. It became obvious that Peggy wasn't his soulmate (the words he'd written weren't displayed on any portion of her skin and tentative touches to each other's soul marks yielded no results), but they didn't care. They continued in a chaste romance that was constantly put on hold and paused in order for them to fight the war to end all wars, the war that would determine the fate of the entire world. For that entire time, he didn't write a single word on his skin.

Then Bucky died.

Steve tried to drink himself into oblivion, letting the grief and rage soak out of him through the amber liquid that everyone else seemed to enjoy so much. It didn't work. The alcohol was metabolized faster than he could even feel the slightest buzz. There was no way to dim the pain, no way to numb his feelings into something manageable.

So, he resorted to the one thing he'd told himself he would never do again. Carefully, hesitantly, Steve grabbed a marker that he always kept in his back pocket and wrote carefully against his palm (somewhere he knew his soulmate would see, somewhere that person would definitely read the words), _I know we really haven't been on speaking terms throughout our lives, but I really need my soulmate today. My best friend just died. He was… the bond isn't letting me describe how it happened, but it was horrible. I had to watch him go. If you could please respond, it would help so much. I just need one word, one line, anything. Please_.

Long hours passed. Peggy came to find him. He spent his night in a destroyed bar smelling like alcohol and depression. Morning rose over the sky like a mockery to Steve's pain. There were no words written back.

In the end, Steve mused, it was probably better that his soulmate never responded. If his soulmate had responded, it wouldn't have been only Peggy crying as he flew himself into the frozen ocean. Without his soulmate getting to know him and getting a connection with him, there was no way for the soulmate to feel as much grief that he would now be gone. And yet, selfishly, Steve wished he had at least one word to remember them by, one single communication with the person he had been destined to love.

So, heart aching at the pain he could be causing his soulmate, Steve kept one hand on the steering mechanism of the plane, the other fishing out a pen from his back pocket. He braced his hand against the wheel and then wrote along the side of his index finger, _I'm sorry we never really got to talk. I'm going to die now, and I just wanted to say that. I'm sorry._

And then he plunged into the icy depths of the ocean.

SSSSSS

Steve hadn't expected to wake up. He especially hadn't been prepared for the time period that he woke up in, the multitudes of bright, flashing lights and the new technology and the completely different mannerisms. He would have been less shocked if he had woken up on a different planet.

For a while, he drowned. He found himself locked in an endless battle with a crippling sadness. Everything he knew was gone. Most of the people he'd fought with, cried with, battled with were dead. They had died of old age and different battles and diseases and he hadn't been there for any of them. The only one left he could find was Peggy. He sat by her side and talked to her and smiled when she talked about her husband and the rest of her family. He patiently reintroduced himself every time she forgot seeing him again. It was painful, but it was all he had left.

Except, maybe, his soulmate. Steve's soul mark was still just an outline on his chest, which normally signified that his soulmate was still alive. The scientists at SHIELD were skeptical about that. They believed that something with the serum and the makeshift cryo that could have stopped his mark from turning black with his soulmate's death.

Still, Steve refused to give up hope on his soulmate. Even though he knew, logically, that his soulmate must be incredibly old and close to death no matter what, he didn't care. The idea that he still had a soulmate, the most important part of his past, was what got him through the days where he wasn't sure if he could continue living on in this world where everything was familiar and so, so different.

Despite all of that, Steve could never bring himself to actually write any words to his soulmate. The soulmate had never written back, not even after Steve's last words. Steve wasn't sure what he'd even say, what he _could_ say to explain what had happened, what was going on.

Eventually, there were new distractions. The Avengers were formed, and they fought together and won together. There was a city to protect and a home to find. The Avengers lived together for a brief stint. They partied, and they protected, and they had fun. They were the team that Steve had left when he'd crashed into the ocean. Thoughts of a soulmate flitted away with each bond he formed with a new teammate.

They weathered the Chitauri and all of Tony's problems and the return of the Winter Soldier (who was actually Bucky, which broke Steve's heart and put it back together all at one time) and Ultron. Then, the team fell apart.

\ The Avenger's Civil War was one of the singularly most painful things Steve had experienced. He'd really thought that the group had something special, something that was unbreakable. He never believed that something like the Sokovia Accords could bring them all down so easily.

So, when the two sides of the war stood on either side of that German airport, the farthest thing from Steve's mind was his soulmate.

The battle was nothing but intense anger and passion and so many rampant emotions that weren't being let go of in the healthy way. The teams fought each other with everything they had, and Steve found himself ultra-focused on the task. He needed to make sure that at least some of them got to the other Winter Soldiers out there and stopped them. Tony wouldn't believe him when he tried to explain the situation, so it was up to Steve alone to fix this.

He fought, and he kicked, and he punched, and he might have dropped a truck on someone. Eventually, Steve and Bucky escaped, fighting through people Steve had once called friends.

They won, sort of. There were no more super soldiers unleashed on the world. But they lost in a much larger way. Tony found out what Bucky had done to his parents. The backlash was spectacular, not that Steve expected any less than that from Tony. The fight left Steve's best friend without an arm and one of his other good friends (at least, that's what Tony had been, once upon a time) hurting and alone.

It wasn't until Bucky was safely away in Wakanda, trapped in a cryo freeze that would hold him until he was ready, that Steve really was able to relax. It was when he was washing up, getting rid of all of the blood and dirt and grime from his skin. That was when he saw it. His mark was filled in. Irritatingly enough, the symbol was filled in with red, white, and blue. As much as people seemed to think otherwise, he wasn't actually the walking personification of the American flag and not everything in his life was those colors. But, of course, his soul mark would be.

It was a testament to how tired he was that it took him another moment or so to really process what that meant. His soul mark was filled in.

His _soul mark_ was _filled in_.

He was immediately hit with the awful realization that he still didn't know who his soulmate was.

Steve must have been touched during the fight, someone getting in a punch there or a kick or something. He must have been so focused on the fight, so high on the adrenaline that he hadn't noticed the burst of emotion that came from bonding with a soulmate for the first time.

No, no, _no_! This wasn't _fair_. Steve had been waiting for _decades_ to find his soulmate, to have some kind of contact with the person. And now that he finally had, he hadn't even noticed! It wasn't _fair_. Steve punched a wall, feeling a hint of satisfaction at the dent he'd made in the wall (that satisfaction was immediately replaced with guilt for having punched T'Challa's wall).

Steve shook his head, centering himself. It was fine. He'd confirmed two things. One, his soulmate was definitely alive. Steve had even narrowed down who it could be. It was one of the people on the other side of the fight who had to have touched him. There weren't many people that he had touched on that side. He could work with that.

He had also confirmed why his soulmate had never responded. Somehow, the universe had known that this was going to happen to Steve Rogers. Whatever worked the soul bonds knew that he was going to fly himself into the ocean and end up in a frozen state for several decades. It knew that he wouldn't wake up until this time where he'd (hopefully) live out the rest of his life. So, the soulmate for him was in this time period. The person hadn't been born when Steve was alive.

It still didn't entirely answer why the person wasn't writing back now, but Steve could kind of understand. When there was an age gap between two people in a soul bond, the younger one would be born with all of the words on their skin that the other member of the bond had written in their lifetime. Whoever Steve's soulmate was had been born with almost twenty-five years of writing on their skin. They had right across their index fingers a promise of death.

Theoretically, Steve's soulmate would have been able to see that their soul mark wasn't black, but that wasn't necessarily a guarantee. Sometimes, soul marks were strange. All that person would know was that there was a promise of certain death written across their fingers and no more words written after that. No more contact, no other expressions of actually being alive. The person must have been terrified that Steve wouldn't respond, that he was actually dead.

Determined to rectify what was probably one of the biggest messes in his life, Steve grabbed a marker from the room he was in and held it above the back of his hand. He just held it there for a moment, poised and ready to express everything he'd been holding in for a very, _very_ long.

He couldn't do it, though. What if he'd gotten all excited and the person still didn't respond. It would break his heart. With Bucky in a cryo chamber and the rest of his friends either in a prison (T'Challa was gathering the intel and resources to get them free; all Steve had to do was wait until T'Challa gave the go ahead) or hating him, there was no one to pick him up if his soulmate didn't respond.

Steve shook his head resolutely. He couldn't do that to himself, to his soulmate. For all he knew, his soulmate was having the same problems he was, struggling with the ideas of the risks and the rewards, weighing them against each other and trying to figure out which option was better.

Steve would help them make that decision. He'd contact them first. Taking one more deep breath, Steve wrote carefully, _Hey, we soul bonded not that long ago. I think it was at that fight at the airport. It was good to finally meet you, even if I'm not entirely certain which one of the people I fought was you_.

For a second, Steve stared at his hand, willing someone else's handwriting to etch across the skin there. Eventually, he closed his eyes and pinched his nose. He was being ridiculous. He didn't even know what time zone this person was in. They could be in a dead sleep. It could be hours until the person responded. Besides, he would feel the writing across his skin when his soulmate responded. It was fine. He would just do other things while he was waiting.

Thankfully, for Steve's own sanity, it was only a few minutes later that he felt a pen scratching across the back of his hand, right under his own words. The feeling startled Steve for a moment, forcing him to drop his shirt as he gasp, hand reaching behind him for a shield that wasn't there.

When he finally realized what was happening, Steve grabbed his hand and held it in front of his face, eyes wide with wonder as they took in the slightly slanted, definitely not neat handwriting taking shape across the back of his hands. The words sounded excited, _Yes! I saw you! You're Captain America! Or, uh, Steve Rogers, I guess. Um, yeah. Your name. Soulmates should definitely call each other by their names and not, like, their superhero names. Yeah. That. Um, still. The bond isn't really letting me tell you who I am? But, we can definitely try hints! I think I have a hint that can get you to guess who I am. I like arachnids. There, does that help? Sorry, I've got awful handwriting and I'm writing all over the back of your hand where people will see all the time and it looks horrible. And I'm rambling, so it's super long. I ramble a lot. Sorry. I say sorry a lot too. I'm kind of a mess, actually. I've never really done this before, though, so? Sorry!_

Even without the hint about arachnids, Steve would have known who it was. There was only one person at that airport with the same level of childish excitement and rambling nature. Spiderman. Steve was soul bonded to Spiderman. It kind of sucked that he couldn't get the kid's real name, but it was alright. They'd meet eventually. Once Steve was no longer a war criminal and wasn't being hunted down. They'd meet up and have a nice dinner and Steve would finally have the soulmate he's waited a lifetime for.

Suddenly, Steve remembered something, just avoiding slapping himself in the forehead. Frantically, Steve wrote in the crook of his elbow, _Honestly, I deserve worse than a cute rant across the back of my hand. I dropped a truck on you! Are you alright? None of us hurt you too bad, did we?_

A response was forming almost as soon as he'd finished his, _It's fine! Really, I'm cool. I heal fast. I mean, it was mainly the little guy that got really big who hurt me. It doesn't feel all that good being hit by him. The truck was all good. I caught it and everything, so… Wait. Did you say cute rant? You thought my ranting was cute?_

Steve smiled to himself, tucking all of warm, fuzzy emotions he was feeling down into his chest where he could call on these happy, safe, wonderful feelings he was having at the moment. He wrote back carefully, _It's definitely cute. I'd like to hear you do it in person someday. I really am sorry about that whole fight._

There was a pause after that and Steve wondered if he'd done something wrong. Now that he was really thinking about it, this person had been fighting on the opposite side of Steve. Spiderman had been fighting on a different side than Steve, aligning himself with the people who had tried to stop Steve from saving the world. Was Spiderman going to be okay with being soul bonded with someone who didn't have the same beliefs as him?

Hesitant words scrawled across Steve's shin, starting at the bottom and working their way up towards Steve, _So, Mr. Stark didn't really tell me what the fight was about. He said that if I went with him, he wouldn't tell my aunt that what I was doing in terms of the whole fighting thing and he said that he'd give me a way higher quality suit. He said that you were wrong, and you thought you were right and it made you dangerous. That's all I knew about the whole thing. But science has proven that there is normally a really strong correlation between the morals of two people who are soul bonded, which probably means that I didn't get the whole story. Is there a chance… could you please tell me what really happened?_

Unbelievably grateful that this person who didn't even really knew Steve was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, Steve felt emotions clog his throat as he wrote out an abridged version of what had transpired in this whole messed up situation. There was another long pause after Steve finished writing and he figured that Spiderman was taking a moment to draft his response. Finally, words were being written just above where his own ended, _I'm really sorry that I fought against you. I didn't know all of that. I shouldn't have been stupid enough to not get the whole story. I was just kind of star struck and I felt threatened and it was all just exciting, and I let my emotions run away. I should have known better. I messed up._

Even through writing, Spiderman sounded so dejected. It was obvious that he was beating himself up about it. Steve hastened to correct him, _It wasn't your fault. It wasn't Tony's either. It was a bad situation with a lot of miscommunication and misunderstandings. Everything moved too fast for anyone to talk it through. I'm sorry that Tony did that to you, though, whether it was really his fault or not. But, please, don't apologize for this. Let's let any past mistakes be in the past, okay?_

Spiderman immediately responded, _Okay_. There was a second's pause and then Spiderman was writing, _Hey, that thing you wrote on our index finger? Was that when you were crashing into the ocean? Oh, wait, sorry, that was insensitive!_

Steve laughed out loud and grinned as he responded, _It's not insensitive. You're fine. You can ask anything you want. And yeah, that's what it was from. I thought that my soulmate was from that time, not from this one. Never thought I was going to wake up in a different time. I wanted to warn my soulmate first._

The conversation dissolved from there, turning to lighter subjects. Spiderman never tried to get information about Steve's plans or his whereabouts and he never tried to berate Steve for anything the man had done. They just talked about anything and everything. It was the happiest Steve had been for a long, _long_ time.

SSSSSS

Steve and his soulmate had been talking regularly for almost two years. Steve had been tracking Spiderman's process as a vigilante in New York as often as he could. There were times when his missions didn't allow him access to a television or news outlets, but when they were in places where he could get a moment to learn about his favorite arachnid themed hero, he would obsess over it.

At some point, he'd had to tell the rest of his team about it, confiding that Spiderman was his soulmate and that they'd been talking regularly. Even if he hadn't felt guilty about talking to a member of "the enemy" without them knowing, they were bound to notice his obsession with the new hero sooner or later. The team took it well, which was a relief he didn't have words for. They did, however, use the knowledge to tease him at every opportunity.

Most of the time, Steve and Spiderman contacted each other once a day at the very least. Sometimes they'd have tiny conversations that spanned hours, but other times there would be a word or a smiley face as a way to just check-in.

The first time that pattern was broken was the first time the little burner phone in Steve's pocket had rung. Banner's terrified voice had sent him racing after Wanda and they'd found her and Vision just in time to save the two. It was a close call, though, and Vision was hurt more than he should have been.

Steve lost himself in the situation, traveling to Wakanda and having Bucky finally join the team that had rallied around him when he was still lost in the mindset of the Winter Soldier.

During the battle against Thanos, there had been something written on his side, circling the symbol that marked the love of his life. He hadn't gotten a chance to look. Bucky was dying, and other people were dying, and everyone was crumbling to dirt around him. He silently cried as he world was ripped down around him.

As the survivors circled around Steve's kneeling form, he cried out in agony, clutching at side as something _burned_ through him at that exact spot.

The others jerked towards him, caught off guard by the scream. Steve shook his head frantically, knowing in his heart what had happened, but not willing to admit it. Not now. Not after what had just happened. He scrabbled for purchase on his shirt, tearing it up and off. The others stared at him, caught between flinching back and trying to help.

Chest heaving, Steve's slightly misty eyes landed on the pitch-black symbol taking up the side of his chest.

He twisted to the side and retched into the bush, the people behind him making sympathetic noises, adding their own grief to his. Carefully, Steve caught his breath, reading the words written there shakily, _I'm sorry. I know I say that a lot, but I really mean it this time. I'm dying, Steve. I'm dying, and I don't want to go. I want to go home and meet you for real this time, and I want to introduce you to my aunt. We'd go on that romantic dinner you always talk about and then we'd kiss goodnight and it would be so sweet and perfect and we'd spend the rest of our lives together. I'm sorry we can't do that. I'm sorry that I'm doing this to you. I'm so, so sorry. I love you._

Steve didn't even know his name.

 **Author's Note: That was depressing. I mean, accurate for how I felt while watching the movie, but depressing. There's probably going to be a part two when Marvel fixes that mess they created. Because they have to fix it. They have to. Right? Anyways, thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: So, I'm going to go make this a series. There was the chapter from Steve's POV and then I'm going to write this chapter from Peter's POV (pretty much the same scene, but different POV). After these two, I'm going to write just some other chapters that involve little conversations between them in the moments between the airport and the scene of Peter's death. I'll keep writing those little scenes until I write the finale fix-it chapter based on whatever Marvel does to fix what they've done.**

 **Responses to Guest Reviews:**

 **Anonymous – Aw, thanks for saying I write well! It was actually you asking for a sequel that convinced me to add more chapters to this series than just the first chapter and the second. Thanks for the amazing review!**

PPPPPP

Peter has always been under the impression that his life was pretty sucky. It wasn't entirely bad – May was amazing and Ned had stuck with him through pretty much everything, - but it was still pretty sucky. His parents died in a plane crash, leaving him alone and shy and scared with May and Ben. He'd warmed up to them eventually, falling into a good pattern with these people who were so wonderful and so amazing even when they hadn't really wanted children in the first place. They did such an amazing job with him. And then there was the spider and the gunman and then Ben was gone. It was just May and Peter and, when he could spare the time, Ned.

There was one bright spot in his life, one single thing that made life a little brighter than it was otherwise. His soulmate.

The soulmate process was sort of complicated, especially for someone like Peter. He was one of the people who was the younger half of a soul bond with an age gap. Whoever his soulmate was, they were older than him, old enough to have a lot of writing on their skin by the time Peter was born. Obviously, there were no identifiers, but Peter felt like he'd be able to recognize his soulmate if he could meet him. The writing was so endearing, so perfect that Peter couldn't help but trace the lines of every word. He'd learned to read off of those words printed so very neatly across his skin, learned to love art from the fine, almost thoughtless and still gorgeous, pictures sketched across his skin.

His situation was a little bit more complicated than others, though. When he was really little, he'd read a note across his tiny pointer finger. It was an apology and it seemed really sad and somehow a part of Peter ached when he read it. There was a part that he didn't understand, though. His soulmate had said that he was going to die. What did that mean? Why would his soulmate apologize for that?

Shaking his head, Peter decided that the easiest solution was to go ask his parents. He toddled through his house, carefully shifting down the stairs and heading towards where his parents were in the kitchen. His mom was smiling, laughing at something Peter's father said. His dad said something else, long words that Peter was determined to learn sometime soon.

His mother saw Peter first, smiling gently down at him and picking him up to sit in one of the tall chairs. She went back to sipping at her tea, a pencil idly flipping between her fingers, "What's up sweetie?"

"I have a question!" Peter announced proudly. His parents loved it when he asked questions. Whenever they were gone for long time periods – off at work where sometimes they couldn't just leave at the normal time – Peter would come up with a question to ask them just so they would smile at him and answer it perfectly because they were so smart.

Peter's father grinned and ruffled Peter's hair, "Let's hear it, then."

Peter stuck his finger out, showing his parents, "What does 'die' mean in this context?"

The smiles quickly slid off of his parents' faces. They glanced at each other, something sad and pitying lining their expressions. Slowly, words failing them for the first time, Peter's parents explained the concept of death. The concept itself was easy, someone is gone and can't come back, but the theory behind it was more difficult. Where did the soul go? What happened to it? Peter resolved to think of it further at a later date.

His small face grew sad and he asked cautiously, "Does this mean that my soulmate is dead?"

"No, sweetie, no." Peter's mom hastened to answer, "The sign that a soulmate is dead isn't what they say, but by that symbol on his neck. If that symbol is all black, then your soulmate is dead. Until then, they're alive and waiting for you, okay?"

"Okay." Peter said, before his face scrunched up, "Wait, then why would they say that? Why would they tell me that they were going to die?"

Peter's father caught Peter as he curled back into his seat, pulling Peter back and stopping him from receding into himself. He whispered into Peter's hair, "It's okay buddy. Your soulmate probably thought they were dying. They probably didn't know that they were going to survive. Why don't you go ahead and write something? See when they write back, okay?"

Peter nodded, trying to keep his tears in. He reached over the table and found a little marker. Carefully, trying to use his best handwriting (which really wasn't all that great; he didn't see the point in having great handwriting when he people could read what he had already), he wrote out, _Hi, I'm your soulmate. It's nice to meet you and I'm glad you didn't die!_

He was pretty sure that his parents were stifling laughs as they read his words, but he wasn't sure, so he didn't bother being offended. He stared intently at the words as the seconds ticked on. His mom and dad moved into another conversation, using more big words that Peter was determined to learn at some point.

After another minute or so, Peter's eyes flew open and he whacked at his father's arm, "Why are the words disappearing? Are they supposed to do that?"

Peter's parents shared another inscrutable look, less pity and more panic, but still a whole bunch of sadness. They watched together as the words completely faded from Peter's arm, disappearing completely.

The kitchen was filled with silence for a long moment, Peter looking between his parent's faces, trying to read something from their expressions to make this better. Peter's mom eventually came over and wrapped Peter in a hug, "Sweetie, I'm so sorry. We really thought that… that your soulmate was alive." Peter felt his heart stop in his chest, tears welling in his eyes. Peter's mom swallowed harshly before continuing, "We're really sorry. When someone writes words on their skin and it disappears, that means that their soulmate has passed on." When she looked at Peter's face and saw confusion mixed in with the tears, she elaborated, "Peter, your soulmate is dead."

They never did find out why Peter's mark hadn't turned black. No doctor or specialist or scientist could figure it out. It was an anomaly that no one could explain. After a while, Peter learned to hide it. He kept the mark hidden as best he could and would never say a single thing about his soulmate or lack thereof to anyone.

Well, mostly everyone. Ned became more than the only other nerd at school to his best friend and his partner in crime. May and Ben became his caretakers when his parents died. Those three and Peter's parents were the only ones who knew the truth about his soulmate.

There were others who would pry. Flash tried to use Peter's soul bond against him, mocking him and saying that Peter was ashamed of the person he was soul bonded with, mocking the person without even knowing them. It was normally considered taboo to use someone's soul bond against them, but Flash never really played by the rules.

In the end, it didn't really matter. Life didn't stop because his soulmate was dead. And there were plenty of people out there who had dead soulmates and were still successful and found love with other people who had dead soulmates. It was fine. He was fine. He didn't need all the things that everyone else had. He didn't need parents or an uncle or a soulmate or money. He had the memories of the people he'd lost, and he had May and Ned and he had the words written across his skin and he had dumpsters where people threw out perfectly good things. He was fine.

PPPPPP

The battle at the airport was _awesome_. It was super cool and amazing and made him feel successful. Mr. Stark had chosen _him_ to help him fight these people. These people were wrong, and they were dangerous, and they were going to do something really bad. And _Peter_ had been chosen to fight them and protect the world from them. It was an honor. It was a tribute to Ben and his sacrifice.

The battle had been intense. There were a lot of people on both sides and it was kind of hard to keep track. Plus, he kept being super awkward. Mind, he was definitely used to being awkward because, well, because he was super nerd Peter Parker. So, it shouldn't really be all that bad that he was being awkward. But he'd really wanted to impress these people. They were his heroes. The stories of their exploits had gotten him through his life so far. Everything that happened in his life was made easier by comparing it to the horrible experiences that each of these heroes had to go through.

Now he was being awkward and making a fool of himself in front of all of these people who had helped him through so much, made his life so much better. It kind of sucked.

Admittedly, the whole experience was still pretty cool. He put himself against these heroes and he actually did pretty well. Sure, they normally ended up getting the better hand of him, but he stopped them from causing too much damage.

Then, _then_ he kicked _Captain America_ in the _face_. He felt his inner fanboy die a little bit. Like, no way. That just happened. He _kicked Captain America in the face_. Admittedly, Captain America gave it back just as good as Peter gave it. Captain America kicked his butt and then dropped a truck on him.

He was pretty sure that the personification of America had a conversation with Peter while the teen was holding up the truck, but he had zero recollection of what he said, or what happened. Blinking and swallowing the shock the coursed through his body, he focused on the feeling spreading through his body from a focal point right at the bottom of his neck.

His soul mark had filled in.

His _soul mark_ had _filled in_.

Peter was immediately hit with the awful realization that he had just soul bonded with Captain America. Captain America who was the embodiment of all that was pure and perfect and who Spiderman was currently fighting against. This was so, so wrong. He was soul bonded with the enemy.

Captain America must have touched him right there during the fight. And he hadn't even responded. Hadn't reacted at all to a soul bonding. A soul bonding when he was supposed to be dead. Peter's soulmate was supposed to be dead. This wasn't… this wasn't right. It wasn't okay. Did Captain America simply not care that he was now fighting his soulmate?

The rest of the fight passed without a single second of acknowledgement, without even a moment of eye contact.

In the end, Peter didn't tell anyone. Who would he tell? There were only three people he would have been able to tell. Peter couldn't tell Tony Stark because there was no way he'd be okay with the idea that Peter had soul bonded with the enemy. Peter couldn't tell May because she didn't know he was Spiderman and he couldn't do that to her, couldn't really explain the situation. Peter couldn't tell Ned because he didn't need that information overload, didn't need the stress of his best friend being soul bonded to a war criminal.

Thankfully, Peter didn't have to stress about it alone. It wasn't long until Captain America contacted him, words softly scratching across his skin right at the back of his hand (the same hand that had a comment about his best friend dying and Peter couldn't think of anything by the Winter Soldier's blank expression and metal arm), _Hey, we soul bonded not that long ago. I think it was at that fight at the airport. It was good to finally meet you, even if I'm not entirely certain which one of the people I fought was you_.

Well, that was awkward. Captain America hadn't even noticed. He hadn't realized that he had been soul bonded. That's why he hadn't said anything during the fight, why he hadn't outwardly reacted. How did someone even manage that? _How_ do you _not_ realize you're being soul bonded?

Wait. Oh god, Peter had _kicked his soulmate in the face_. He was such a colossal mess. Why did he always manage to get into situation like this? _Why_?

He took a moment to bury his face in his hands and just breath for a moment. It was okay. It was fine. He was fine. It was _okay_. He just needed to take a second to breath in and let everything sink in. Captain America could wait a minute or so. He'd been waiting for decades by now. A few more minutes wouldn't matter.

Okay, okay. Look over this rationally. Don't let emotions take over. Okay, Peter could do that. What had happened? Make a list. He could do that. He was good with lists. Here is was:

He was soul bonded to Captain America.

His soul bond had colored in with deep reds, the outline a dark-hued blue that bordered on black.

There was no way he could possibly hide this from his Aunt, so he needed a cover story.

His soulmate was an international war criminal.

He had fought his soulmate and tried to do anything to stop him from getting what he wanted.

Soulmates are typically matched on a lot of things, but especially on morals. It was what made criminal soulmate matches so dangerous.

His soulmate dropped a truck on him and kicked him in the face.

Peter kicked his soulmate in the face.

No one knew that he had been soul bonded, and they especially didn't know that it was with Captain America.

There was a pretty impressive age gap between the two.

There, a list. Lists make everything better. He could deal with all of that. So what if his soul bond was with Captain America, an international war criminal? It wasn't like the soul bond would let either of them could give information about their whereabouts, so that wouldn't really matter. And Captain America didn't even know who Peter really was, couldn't know until they finally met. That took care of #1 and #4. His soul bond was filled with colors that were easily visible against his pale skin, so he really couldn't hide it from May. Well, it wouldn't be too hard. All he'd have to say was that he was going through a public transportation terminal on the way to somewhere and was getting off when he felt it. By the time he turned around, there was no one there. Something like that. He'd say that he and his soulmate were trying to work it out over their skin. That wasn't entirely false. Just a bunch of half-lies. He hated lying to May, but he couldn't let her worry about the whole Spiderman thing. He couldn't. There. That took care of #2 and #3.

#7 and #8 kind of evened out because they did it to each other. Well, Peter didn't drop a truck on Captain America, but he did steal his shield, so… close enough? #5 and #6 kind of went together. Peter had the feeling that he hadn't gotten the full story from Mr. Stark (not that he got much of a story at all from Mr. Stark; he'd kind of been shoved into a plane and pushed at the airport and told not to get hurt too much) and that there was some sort of confusion there that caused #5 and #6. He'd have to ask Captain America about it, clear the air.

Peter would have to just deal with #9. He couldn't tell anyone. No one needed that burden to think about. It would be his secret. Maybe, someday, if someone found out that Peter was Spiderman, then he'd confide in them, explaining the situation. As it was, there were a lot of conversations that Peter was going to have to cover up from certain people. They were kind of incriminating if you knew pretty much any info. And Mr. Stark's constant info drops made sure that everyone knew all the info. The whole world now knew that Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, had killed Mr. Stark's parents.

#10 was a little harder to compartmentalize. Peter wasn't really into the whole age gap thing. Obviously, he was going to try to love his soulmate because the universe had decided that the two of them were the perfect match, but still. It was kind of weird. He wasn't entirely sure what to think about the situation at the moment. That one would require more thought, maybe later when they had gotten to know each other better.

List figured out, Peter set a pen to the back of his hand with a much clearer mind, _Yes! I saw you! You're Captain America! Or, uh, Steve Rogers, I guess. Um, yeah. Your name. Soulmates should definitely call each other by their names and not, like, their superhero names. Yeah. That. Um, still. The bond isn't really letting me tell you who I am? But, we can definitely try hints! I think I have a hint that can get you to guess who I am. I like arachnids. There, does that help? Sorry, I've got awful handwriting and I'm writing all over the back of your hand where people will see all the time and it looks horrible. And I'm rambling, so it's super long. I ramble a lot. Sorry. I say sorry a lot too. I'm kind of a mess, actually. I've never really done this before, so? Sorry!_

God, he was such a mess. He hadn't even realized he could be that ineloquent. He was such an awkward taco. There was no salvaging that catastrophe, honestly.

But then Captain – Steve – was writing back and saying that his rambling was cute and that he recognized him and that he was worried about Peter and it just. It melted Peter's heart. His response back was a little less awkward. All of his subsequent responses became less and less awkward as he started to relax. Conversation between the two of them just flowed so easily. It was like breathing. Peter could see why the universe would put them together.

It was the happiest Peter had been for a long, _long_ time.

PPPPPP

Peter and his soulmate had been talking regularly for almost two years. Peter had been tracking the process of the other half of the Avengers as often as he could. It was hard to get a handle on what they were doing, but Peter could make connections between world events and things that Steve would write to figure out kind of what was happening in the older man's life. He was just happy to see that Steve was still working to save the world and that he was still alive and well.

At some point relatively soon after the whole Vulture fiasco, he'd had to tell Ned about it, confiding that Captain America was his soulmate and that they'd been talking regularly. Ned had taken it well, other than several long rants and a ton of overly personal questions that Peter mostly stuttered and blushed his way through. It was nice having Ned on board – with everything, the soulmate thing and the Spider thing. Ned was his best friend and it had been hard trying to keep all those secrets from him. Eventually, he'd broken and told May too. She was always worried about his thing as Spiderman and he'd overheard her muttering about those nasty former Avengers and he'd been too scared to tell her.

She took it a little less well than Ned, but she was never mean about it. She totally supported the whole thing, but she couldn't help but be worried for him and constantly concerned. It worked out, though, even if Ned and May asked way too many questions about Captain America. Peter swore that they teamed up on him.

Most of the time, Peter and Steve contacted each other once at day at the very least. Sometimes they'd have tiny conversations that spanned hours, but other times there would be a word or a smiley face (mainly from Peter, but he'd started getting Steve to do it too) as a way to just check in.

The first time the pattern had broken was when Peter ended up in space. He was a little too busy being, well, in _space_ to really focus on his soulmate. He lost himself in the situation, just moving from problem to problem and trying to stay with the rest of the heroes. It was kind of awe-inspiring to be in the midst of all these great figures, even if Mr. Stark found a way to fight with pretty much every single one. It was kind of impressive how many things Mr. Stark found to argue with people about. Mr. Stark and Peter had kind of been on the outs after the whole Civil War incident where Peter felt like he had been manipulated.

Then none of that mattered because everything was going wrong and Thanos was _there_ and then, and then. Then everyone was dying. People crumbled to ash all around him. Terrified, Peter clung to Tony's suit, eyes wide and scared, voice stuttered as he pleaded, "Please. I don't want to go. I don't want to go."

Shaking, Peter caught sight of a rip just along his index finger. He saw the words that Steve wrote when he thought he was going to die.

As he felt himself slowly (ever so slowly which was weird because everyone else dissolved so fast, but he didn't want to dissolve fast at all) falling to pieces, he split open his suit, taking a pen that he always kept on him and writing around where he knew Steve's soul mark was. He quickly scribbled in the words, _I'm sorry. I know I say that a lot, but I really mean it this time. I'm dying, Steve. I'm dying, and I don't want to go. I want to go home and meet you for real this time, and I want to introduce you to my aunt. We'd go on that romantic dinner you always talk about and then we'd kiss goodnight and it would be so sweet and perfect and we'd spend the rest of our lives together. I'm sorry we can't do that. I'm sorry that I'm doing this to you. I'm so, so sorry. I love you._

Mr. Stark watched him the whole time, strong arms keeping Peter upright as one side started to crumble. Mr. Stark was desperately shaking his head, muttering, "Kid. Hang on, kid."

Peter let a tear slip out and whispered, "I don't want to go. I don't want to. I'm sorry. _I'm sorry_."

His had one last thought before he died.

He wished Steve had known his name.

 **Author's Note: Look to the top of the fic to see what my updates for this story are going to be like. You guys convinced me to write more chapters when it was just going to be the two. Oops. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Please, feel free to suggest things for these two dorks to discuss. It can be serious or fluffy or angsty or funny. Up to you. The more suggestions I get, the more chapters you get, so you guys do you. Read, review, and enjoy!**

 **THIS IS BETWEEN STEVE DISCOVERING PETER AND PETER DYING! In case you were wondering.**

SSSSSS

 _Hey, so this is super lame, and I totally understand if you don't want to answer, but I was kind of wondering because I'm weird like that. Um, yeah, so I was looking at conversation starters and this one said, "If you could have a superpower, what would it be?" And, like, I know we have superpowers already and all that, but I was kind of thinking that we didn't really have a choice about it. I mean, you kind of did, but not really? You didn't pick what superpowers you got, you just chose to get superpowers. Anyways! If you didn't have superpowers and could get any superpowers other than the one you currently have, which one would it be?_

Steve blinked at his arm as writing continued scrolling down it. He read the words as they were written, lips curling into a little smile. He reached behind him as he read, fingers grasping for a pen, deftly taking the top off and holding it ready to answer once Spiderman finished ranting. Not that he was really all that anxious for Spiderman to stop ranting since it was essentially one of the cutest things Steve has ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

Natasha snorted into her soup, hiding her face behind the bowl as she brought it to her lips and started drinking. Steve glared at her, but it was underscored by Wanda's raised eyebrows and Sam's knowing smirk. Steve rolled his eyes, "What?"

"Oh nothing. I just think it's cute that your soulmate is such a talker. I mean, that's quite the conversation starter there." Natasha said slyly, smiling into her soup again.

Wanda took a bite of his bread unapologetically, "It's adorable."

"Nah," Sam added, "What's adorable is how flustered Steve's getting about it. Look how red-faced he's getting."

"Really funny guys. Hilarious." Steve announced deadpan, formulating his answer in his head now that Peter had stopped writing his portion.

Sam craned over to read the messy, scribbled writing. He muffled a laugh against his hand and asked incredulously, "Spiderman wants to know what Captain America would like if he could have any superpower? Does he realize the problem with that question, or…?"

Steve scrunched his shoulders in defensively as Natasha and Wanda turned twin incredulous stares onto him. He answered firmly, "If you'd kept reading, you'd realize that he realized that. He's asking what power I would have if I'd gotten to choose what power I wanted. I think it's a sweet conversation starter. Besides, he's a nerd. He's probably got a response formulated about this already." Steve couldn't help the dorky smile that overtook his expression at the admission.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "This got too sappy. It's gross now instead of entertaining."

Steve raised his eyebrows at her, "You're the one who started it. I blame you entirely for this."

She narrowed her eyes at him but didn't say anything. He grinned unrepentantly at her and turned his attention back to the writing that had paused, waiting for his response.

Carefully, Steve started writing, _I think the power I would want would be flight. I'm not sure if I'd want wings like that one mutant that I've been seeing on TV, but just the ability to fly. That would be nice._

Spiderman started writing back immediately, _Really? That's so neat! Someday, when we meet up, I'll take you flying. I mean, it's not really flying. More like swinging? I'll take you swinging. In my opinion, it's better than flying. More of an adrenaline rush. There's like, this moment. You're swinging on the web, flipping through the air and the swing runs out. You know you have to shoot another web. You aim, and you shoot, and you hope that you've hit the right spot with the right angle on the next building because by then, your original web has given out. There's this moment of free fall where you don't know if you're going to be caught. But I always catch myself. Well, not always. Most of the time. I'd catch you._

Steve originally stifled laughter against his palm as he started reading, amused by Spiderman's insistence that swinging was better. That amusement turned fond and wistful as Spiderman talked about what they were going to do when they finally met again. It was obvious that Spiderman was really passionate about this, about swinging through the city and free falling with only the assurance of his own skill to save him. The fondness and wistfulness switched to almost unbearable love as he read the last line. He had to blink for a moment, lightly touching the words. The others didn't pry; they knew how hard it was for him to be separated from his soulmate, to not even know his _name_.

Getting ahold of himself, Steve wrote carefully, _I'm sure you would. I look forward to swinging through New York with you someday. But, for today, what superpower would you have?_

 _You know that Mystique chick? The one's who goes against the X-men? She's got this power where she can change herself to look like literally anyone. She can even make her skin into clothes and jewelry and stuff. Which, I mean, means that she's essentially naked all the time and when she's not looking like other people, she's blue or something and that would kind of suck because people don't like people who are different, but I would like to be able to change my appearance into other people's. Could you imagine? I'm watching this drug ring and the leader steps out to go to the bathroom. Next thing they know, I'm popping in, looking just like him. I take them down from the inside. Awesome._ Spiderman wrote quickly, handwriting still as scrawled and jagged as always.

Smiling, Steve agreed, _Awesome_.

 _So, uh, thanks. For indulging in my stupid question._ Spiderman wrote hesitantly, words scratching their way across Steve's skin almost shyly.

Rolling his eyes, Steve responded fondly, _It wasn't stupid. I actually liked it. No one's ever asked me that before even though it's basically a rite of passage to be asked that question. I never ever really thought about it before you asked._

There was a pause before, _Oh_ , Spiderman wrote, _That's cool! I'm glad you liked it. Hey, I've actually got to go. Homework and dinner are both calling, so… Talk to you later!_

 _Bye Spiderman,_ Steve wrote back fondly, replacing the cap of his pen and putting it back behind him.

His team was smirking at him again.

 **Author's Note: Just a little conversation between them. Enjoy!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: This idea was suggested by luxcurious on AO3 for a chapter. Thanks for the suggestion! Alright, read, review, and enjoy!**

 **Responses to Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest – Thank you so much!**

 **HI – Infinity War was amazing. I ended up watching it three times in theaters with various people. Oops :P Thanks for the review!**

PPPPPP

Peter really wasn't a fan of lit class. Like, there was nothing wrong with it in theory. He just… didn't like it. Probably the amount of homework, honestly. And the lack of applicability to his nighttime vigilante career. Both of those things probably affected his opinion of the class. And the books. The books were not not-good. They were just kind of… boring. They were boring. No action! Barely any romance and most of the romance was weird and disturbing, like in Frankenstein. There was some creepy incest going on. At least in the original version, Victor and Elizabeth had been cousins. Maybe in the version Peter had to read in class it wasn't like that, but they still creepily called each other cousin and grew up together and just, bleh. Weird, creepy romance.

So, that was why Peter was writing to Steve instead of actually paying attention in class. He idly wrote out, _Did you know that_ Frankenstein _was considered the first science fiction novel? Wait, did you even have to read_ Frankenstein _in high school?_

There was no immediate response and Peter slumped. The start of their relationship had been kind of crazy and it really hadn't calmed down since then. Steve was still a wanted criminal and Peter was still an extralegal vigilante. Steve still didn't know Peter's name and they could still only contact each other over their skin. It was crazy. It was insane. Peter loved every moment of it.

Sure, there were moments when he _ached_ with the need to talk to Steve, to see him and interact with him and just _be in his presence_ , but he understood that it couldn't happen. It would happen eventually, but not yet. There was too much going on in the world for it to happen any time soon. But eventually. He just had to wait.

Smile curling up slightly, Peter's hand reached down to brush his side, fingertips meeting the spot that held his colored in soul mark. He loved it so much. Touching it felt like he was reaching through their bond and holding hands with Steve, despite the fact that he'd never done it and therefore didn't actually know what that felt like.

Peter sighed, fingers pressing a little more insistently against the spot, chasing the feeling as a way to chase away the loneliness. It took the teacher three attempts to get his attention. She finally snapped, " _Peter Parker!_ "

His head whipped up, cheeks heating in shame as he bashfully put a hand behind his head and scratched at his neck, "Ha, sorry. Um, what was it you wanted?"

The class snickered around him, cruel words and looks being thrown around him. The teacher ignored it like usual, muttering to herself before addressing him, "I was _asking_ whether you think Mary Shelley wanted us to feel sympathetic towards the monster or not?"

Um, what? How was _Peter_ wasn't supposed to know? He'd never met the chick before. Sighing, he squinted and thought back through the novel. He wrinkled his nose and answered, "I think she wanted us to feel sympathetic towards everyone? Like, she wanted us to hate the monster and be disgusted by him, but also be sympathetic? Because if we're sympathetic, then we can put ourselves into it's shoes, into _every_ character's shoes. That way we can learn the lesson better?"

The teacher glanced down her nose at him, but eventually nodded and moved onto another student.

The sad thing was, Peter actually really liked this teacher. She just didn't appreciate students not paying attention and Peter never really payed attention because he didn't like the class. It was kind of a vicious cycle, honestly.

Ned leaned over as soon as the teacher looked away, "What were you doing? Working on some more _you know_ stuff? Stuff that your guy in the chair could help with?" His eyes sparkled with interest, but Peter winced and just tapped his skin lightly, hitting a spot that was covered in black ink. Ned nodded back in understanding, looking slightly put out. He and his soulmate had steady communication, but they hadn't met yet. It made Peter feel bad about complaining about his own soulmate situation. At least he knew who his was. He might not know _where_ Steve was or how injured he was or what he was doing or _how_ he was, but he did know _who_ he was. That had to be good enough.

Luckily, the rest of the class passed without incident and Peter was able to escape to the next class without much of a glare from the teacher. His next class was physics and was _a lot_ more enjoyable. Well, maybe not _a lot_. The teacher still didn't really approve of students not paying attention. Sure, Peter paid a lot more attention in this class, but not nearly as much as he should. He was always thinking about other things.

Speaking of which, as soon as Peter settled down in his chair, he felt Steve's answer along his skin. He glanced down and read, _Honestly, at this point, I don't even remember what I read in high school. I think I read_ Frankenstein _on my own time. I was always a fan of classics. They had something that other stories just didn't. I didn't know it was a sci-fi novel, though._

 _That's disgusting_ , Peter wrote back, _Why would you read classics in your spare time? That's lame._

There was a definite laugh in Steve's words when he responded, _Oh come on, I bet you've never tried to read a classic outside of class. If you tried actually reading one that wasn't assigned by a teacher and accompanied by a ton of school work, I'm sure you'd like it. Besides, aren't you in class right now?_

Peter rolled his eyes and answered, _Yeah, I'm in class. But I know all this stuff. I had to learn it when I was trying to start my vigilante career. I'm super bored. Please don't stop writing me._

 _I'll feel guilty writing to you, but I'll draw something. You can watch me draw it. Give me a second to find something that I want to draw_ , Steve responded easily. One corner of Peter's lips curled up. He was so cute. And his drawings were _epic_.

A soft tapping on the side of his desk made Peter's head whip upwards, blinking slightly at the girl who had tapped his desk. MJ was staring at him with an entirely unemotional expression, but there was something in her eyes that made it seem like she was amused. She turned her sketchbook towards Peter, showing a picture of him being yelled at by the physics teacher for not participating.

Blushing and ducking his head, Peter gave her a thumbs-up to show that he understood. Sighing, he regretfully turned his attention away from his hand and towards the teacher. Despite the fact that he already knew the basic physics, it was still kind of fascinating to learn more applications to the basic knowledge. He could always take _something_ away from the lesson.

The teacher always had a set schedule: teach the concept, display the uses, and then make students go to the board and solve problems. He would always pick their names out of a little cup and Peter, fantastically enough, was the first name called. Trying to contain his sigh, Peter slumped towards the front of the room, accepting the marker and facing the board. Of course, his was a super complicated problem. Peter swore that the teacher gave him those just because he knew that Peter was the only one who could do them. It didn't mean that they weren't still hard.

Peter focused in on the problem, squinting at the board and putting all of his effort into figuring it out. That's probably why it took him a second or two to realize that his class was gasping behind him.

Stopping abruptly, Peter glanced at their surprised features. His own eyes widened, and he glanced at his hand to make sure that none of his Spider-suit or whatever was showing. That would be so bad. Mr. Stark and May would both kill him. Happy too, probably, just for the fun of it.

It wasn't the Spider-suit, but it wasn't nothing either. Curling delicately over the back of his thumb and the area below it was an intricate spider's web in the shape of a heart, a small spider hanging carefully from it. It was beautifully drawn and looked like it belonged on an album cover or something, but it was also drawing itself on his hand in front of the entire class.

Obviously, people understood that there were going to be moments where they would see someone's soulmate writing to them on their skin. It was a fact of life that people were going to see that happen. It didn't mean that it wasn't still awkward and slightly embarrassing, especially when it was something as personal as this. A drawing from a soulmate? That was dedication and it was sweet, and it was something that was typically private between soulmates.

Peter blushed again, heat rising to his cheeks as he awkwardly tried to pull his sleeve up over his thumb. Coughing slightly, Peter spoke rapidly, "Um, yeah. That's, uh, my soulmate. He was drawing something for me. So he didn't distract me. From class. So he didn't distract me from class. Earlier. He draws. A lot. He's kind of sweet like that. And he's a really good artist. And – yeah. Um. That." He wanted to crawl in a hole and die. The rest of the class were staring at him in confusion now, obviously bamboozled by his little impromptu speech. Peter promptly ignored them and went back to the problem on the board, still blushing furiously.

He finished the problem and high-tailed it back to his seat, ducking his head and doing his best to become one with the floor. Sometimes he wished that was his superpower instead of the whole spider-stuff. His life would be golden if he could merge with the floor on a regular basis.

Sighing, Peter gave in to the fact that it happened and was awkward and he made it more awkward by being an awkward turtle. There was no changing that. He idly scribbled a little heart next to the intricate drawing Steve had given him. After another moment of consideration, he wrote carefully, _I was actually writing the answer to a problem on the board when you sent that. Everyone was kind of, surprised, I guess? And it was awkward, but then I opened my big mouth and made it extra awkward. I somehow manage to do that all the time. But the drawing was beautiful! It might actually be my favorite, so, thanks._

Steve's answer was almost immediate, _I'm glad you liked it! I'll try to find more like it. You know, a friend of mine tells me that being awkward like that all the time because you're actually a sweetheart is what gets you designated as a 'cinnamon roll' or something like that. So, apparently you're a cinnamon roll. How does that make you feel?_

He was obviously teasing Peter. It helped, though. Peter could feel the tension easing out of him as his lips curled into a little smile and he wrote back, _As long as I'm your cinnamon roll, I have no problem with it_. Ugh, that was actually not what he'd been planning to write. That was overly cheesy. Super lame. Peter was such a loser.

Steve's response was quick again, _I thought I was supposed to be the old-fashioned, cheesy one? But I must say, you do it quite well_.

It was amazing how quickly Steve could wash away any lingering self-doubts Peter had. He was quickly becoming more confident and sure of himself with each conversation he and his soulmate had. He wasn't sure if that was common between soulmates or if Steve really was just that perfect. Peter personally thought it was the second. With no words to describe that to Steve, Peter just responded, _I love you_.

There was a slight pause after that, Peter obviously having taken Steve by surprise. They hadn't really said it to each other before. Soulmates typically did love each other, but they still progressed like a normal relationship. There were still boundaries and learning curves and bumps in the road. Saying those three words were just as important. Steve's response felt heavier than usual, the writing thicker and darker when he responded, _I love you too._

 **Author's Note: There you go! Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading and I'm always open to suggestions!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Alrighty, after this chapter, I'm out of ideas on what to have these two adorable idiots talk about. I'll write something as soon as I think of it, but I'm welcome to ideas from my readers too. This chapter was suggested by hchollym on AO3. Alright, read, review, and enjoy!**

SSSSSS

Steve was kind of… well, nervous. He'd never admit it. Ever. For any reason. But, yeah. He was nervous. The other day, Spiderman had told him that he loved him, and Steve had said it back and, maybe, Steve wanted to learn a little bit more about some more _serious_ topics. Was that really so bad?

No, no it wasn't. It was perfectly normal that Steve wanted to ask these questions. Spiderman might get initially flustered just because that seemed to be his natural state of being, but that was okay. Steve had learned to get through a whole lot of awkward from their conversations so far. He could get through this.

Then again, maybe he didn't need to. He could just wait until they knew each other a little bit more to ask this kind of question. Steve could avoid the awkward written flailing and Spiderman could avoid the flustered state of being. It really wouldn't be a hardship to know this later on in their relationship instead of now. Not knowing this wouldn't affect their relationship at all. They had plenty of time before they even needed to start thinking about this. Steve didn't even know Spiderman's name! This was too much, too soon.

Or was it?

Steve shook his head and sighed, rubbing roughly at his forehead. This was ridiculous. He was a veteran of a World War and he had been an Avenger. He'd fought aliens and watched an entire city fall from the sky. He was better than this. He shouldn't be afraid of asking a single question. Honestly, what was he thinking? Getting all freaked out about this? He was being ridiculous.

Before he had a chance to talk himself out of it again, Steve put a pen against his skin and wrote, _What do you think about having children?_ There. He'd done it. Steve read the words again. That sounded awkward. It sounded like he was asking Spiderman to have babies with him. That wasn't even biologically possible. It also sounded like he was talking about a _soon_ kind of thing. Blushing even though no one could actually see him, Steve added a line underneath his first, _I mean, later. Like, adopting or going through a surrogate or something. At some point. What is your stance on the idea of children and the number of children in general? And pets, too. What is your stance on pets?_

Spiderman's response was quicker than Steve had been expecting considering the kid was supposed to be sleeping if Steve's mental calculation of the time in New York at the moment. Spiderman's sounded fond and amused when he responded, _You seem to have caught my usual word vomit. I normally only get that like that when I'm second guessing asking you something. Is this really that important to you?_

Sometimes, Spiderman was the most oblivious person Steve knew. And that was saying something, that he could figure that out from half a world away and only through written interactions. Other times, Spiderman surprised him with his intuition. Steve knew that the vigilante was intelligent, had started conversations with him that had quickly gone right over his head the moment Spiderman started talking about anything even remotely scientific. Still, he hadn't really expected Spiderman to pick up on the idea that this was something that was important to Steve.

Swallowing, Steve considered how to answer the question, _Yeah, it is. I don't want to pressure you or make you answer now. The answer doesn't matter, either. I'm fine with whatever you say, but I just wanted to know._

 _There's more to it,_ Spiderman insisted, still not answering the question. Steve sighed; all he'd wanted was for his question to be answered, not to have to go through a Q and A question of his own.

Rubbing his forehead again with increasing strength, Steve struggled to find the words, _It's just – I guess… My mother always wanted grandchildren. I know she's not here anymore, that she hasn't been for a while, but that doesn't mean that I don't still want that. I know you're still a kid yourself and there's a whole lot of stuff that would need to be figured out, but… I don't know. I guess, I want to know what you think, how you feel about this kind of stuff. In my time, everything was about the war. It was about winning the war and fighting the war and building for the war. I gave up everything for the war. I let myself be subjected to an experimental substance. I threw myself into danger. I gave up years of my life. I flew my plane into the ocean, all for the war. And we were always told that we should win the war in our generation so our children and our children's children could be free. And that always stuck with me. Are people free now? We've had more wars. We're still fighting wars. Do people still fight wars not for themselves, but for the next generation? Sorry, this probably doesn't make much sense. It barely makes sense to me._

There was a long pause, longer than it should have taken for Spiderman to read the words and formulate a response. Steve shifted nervously. Had he said too much? Overshared? Spiderman had asked, hadn't he? Didn't Steve do the right thing by baring his soul? Or was he really that confusing that Spiderman genuinely didn't know how to answer? He really, _really_ shouldn't have asked the stupid question.

When Spiderman's response finally came, it didn't seem to end, _Thank you for telling me that! And don't worry, I understood. Think about who you're talking to. I'm basically the king of awkward, confused, half-thought-out rants! I think that people still fight wars for the next generation. There's always the thought of protecting those they left behind. Protecting their loved ones, their country, so it can continue on. Protecting their legacy, I guess. There's a lot of different kinds of wars that are being fought right now. I think each person fights each individual war for different reasons. And, to finally answer your question, yes, I would like kids. Probably go through a surrogate for one or two and then adopt a ton more. I think we would make great adoptive parents. And a ton of pets, too. I really want a golden retriever! Also, a tarantula! I know that's super lame and cliché, but I feel like I should pay homage to my creators, too. Then again, thinking on it, I don't think I'd want a golden retriever. I think it'd remind me too much of you. We don't need two of you and you're basically a giant golden retriever. So, yes to kids. Yes to adoption. Yes to surrogate. A lot as to amount. Yes to pets. Did I cover everything?_

 _You're rather put together tonight. Other than the golden retriever comments_ , Steve wrote back before adding, _And yes, you covered everything_.

 _Yes! And yeah, I'm staying awake through a mixture of pure determination, love for our conversations, a ton of coffee, and a couple of Red Bulls. I've got to finish this stakeout, but I had to stay up until almost four the night before because there were a lot of crazies out last night. Like, yikes. Anyways, when I'm sleep-deprived, I enter a sort of 'wisdom-mode' as my best friend puts it. That's what just happened_ , Spiderman responded quickly.

Now that Steve was looking, the handwriting was a little shaky and rushed. He shook his head fondly, _I'm going to stop distracting you now and hope that you get some sort of sleep in the next couple of days. Try to sleep a little? And not during class? Please? For me?_

 _Anything for you, Steve. Love you!_ Spiderman threw back easily, the words coming out as smoothly as if they'd been saying them to each other from the day their were born.

Steve wrote back quickly, _Love you too_.

He put down his pen and read over the conversation again. He was lucky to have someone who could understand him so well and who agreed with his ideals and hopes for the future. Then again, he actually kind of wanted a golden retriever. They'd have to talk about that.

 **Author's Note: There you go! Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I love writing this story so much. Like, if people kept giving me ideas, I could write this all day every day. This particular idea was suggested by Guest, so thanks to them for the idea! Read, review, and enjoy!**

 **Responses to Guest Reviews:**

 **Guest – I'm glad you like it! There will definitely be a happy ending because I couldn't bear ending this on a sad note. Love the ideas! I'm going to do your middle idea for this chapter because I love that so much. It's a beautiful idea. Thank you for the amazing review!**

PPPPPP

Peter was breathing hard, trying to keep himself from crying. He swept through the empty neighborhood of broken down warehouses, finding his favorite one. It was in an extra abandoned area, a building so desolate and broken down that no one dared step inside it. With as decrepit and dangerous as the building was, the only one who could safely navigate the area was someone with his Spider sense and ability to stick to walls and his balance. Which seemed to disappear when he wasn't wearing the mask. The same way his confidence disappeared. The same way his ability to be anywhere close to a legitimately okay human being disappeared when he wasn't wearing the mask.

Biting out a sob, Peter crawled up the walls, taking a meandering path across it and the ceiling, trying to avoid the spots of mold and the jagged bursts of metal and concrete. He settled in his favorite corner, the one he always came to when he was particularly upset, when the enhanced senses started to get overwhelming. It was dark and up on the ceiling and he felt like the walls were closed into that one spot just to protect him. It was his safe spot.

He sat in that safe spot and sobbed.

Today really hadn't been his day. It was actually probably the worst day he had experienced in a really long time.

Getting to school late was just the start of a phenomenally horrible day. He'd woken up late after three practically sleepless nights in a row dealing with huge projects, academic decathlon things, and a sudden rise in criminal activity. May was out of town with some of her old college friends, so there had been no one to check on him when he didn't get up at the normal time. In his rush, he'd had to skip breakfast, barely managing to get his clothes on straight before he'd scrambled out the door. The bus was gone, so he'd suited up, webbing across the city as fast as he could. That meant that when he finally got to school (over an hour late), he had mask head and his clothes were rumpled and wrinkled. He looked like the colossal mess that he was.

School had been awful. Ned and MJ were _both_ out sick from the flu that was making its way through the student body (thank goodness for the spider bite there) so Peter had no one to keep him company through the boring litany of classes. Flash, already intolerable, was made worse by his insistence at running decathlon practice and his irritability at the flu that had gotten to him and the fact that his father wouldn't let him miss school to rest.

Peter had thought that he'd finally found a bright spot when he saw Happy waiting for him on his path home from school. That turned out to be icing on the trash cake.

Happy was irritable because Mr. Stark was irritable and that meant that, after several super awkward failed attempts at conversation, Peter and Happy spent the ride in silence. Peter really didn't enjoy being awkward and he knew that it made other people uncomfortable, but if they at least pretended to play along, it helped the conversation flow a little easier. Peter _knew_ he was annoying and that he easily got on people's nerves and that he was a complete, flaming mess at all times of the day and that no one wanted to deal with that, but it would be nice to have a little support, a moment of praise or a second of acknowledgement. But apparently he wasn't even worth that much.

Mr. Stark had wanted to lecture Peter. Apparently, Peter was too visible, too reckless. Apparently, he had gotten caught by a video camera outside a store taking his mask off, and Mr. Stark had been forced to intervene. He'd had to wipe the camera and deal with the problem. That meant that he was upset because he just became implemented in whatever it was the Peter had going on.

Peter, snapping, had taken the moment to call Mr. Stark out, asking him why he let Peter get away with not signing the Accords when he'd torn apart his own team for them. That had led into a screaming match that was entirely Mr. Stark screaming and partially Peter cowering. Pepper had come in and started yelling at Mr. Stark for yelling at Peter and, when Peter hesitantly tried to tell them to stop fighting over him, Pepper had stormed off, leaving him without his support and with an even angrier Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark had clenched his jaw and said, deadly quiet, that Peter should get out of his sight, so Peter had scampered out of the place, tears building in his eyes. He hadn't found Happy and he wasn't sure that he would have wanted to see anyone, especially the burly driver, at that moment.

\ That was what found him in that building, sobbing in a small corner like the scared little boy that he was. He couldn't even handle his secret identity and then he went and made problems for a couple and Mr. Stark was disappointed in him because _he couldn't do anything right_.

Peter's eyes blurred with the tears and his usual iron-tight control on his senses slipped, letting in a cacophony of sounds and smells that all mixed together to feel something like death to Peter. Gasping, he tried to regain control of his senses, to find some sort of peace that would allow him to stop hearing _everything_ , smelling _everything_ , seeing _everything_ , but he couldn't focus, couldn't get his senses under control, couldn't do _anything_ , why was he so _stupid_?

Dully, Peter felt a spot next to neck shiver, a slight, supernatural pressure against the skin there, his soul mark tingling. Swallowing another sob, Peter dipped his fingers underneath the collar of his shirt, tracing the skin there, feeling that comforting feeling of holding hands with Steve.

Swallowing harshly again, Peter kept crying, tears falling out of his eyes as he traced the mark over and over again, trying to draw as much comfort from that as he possibly could. It wasn't enough. This imitation of Steve's touch was just a mockery of his pain at the moment, taunting him and the cruelty of his life. Even when he found his soulmate, he couldn't be with him, couldn't feel the comfort of the other man's skin.

Then again, maybe it was better this way. Peter didn't want to bother Steve with this, with his problems. He didn't want to bother the hero with his stupid mess and his stupidity and his stupid life. These problems were Peter's and he should be able to handle them himself. It wasn't fair to want to drop them all on Steve, to want to curl into the comfort of Steve's arms (not that Peter knew what that felt like because his only interaction with the man had ended with him kicking the man in the face and Steve dropping a truck on him). It wasn't fair to expect a person who was running for his life because he broke a law that was stupid to begin with to deal with his troubles.

Peter still couldn't stop crying.

He couldn't help himself from grabbing a pen from where he always kept it in his front pocket.

He was so _weak_. He couldn't even do this soulmate this right. He was pitiful. Steve was better off far away from him. This was _stupid_. _Peter_ was stupid.

That still didn't stop him from writing shakily, _Hey, how are you?_

The response took a long, heart-stopping moment to appear, _Busy. I'll get back to you in a second, okay?_

Peter felt his heart drop out of his chest, felt it break on the ground far below him. What right did he to be upset? He had known this, had known that Steve had bigger problems. He had said himself that it was better to not bother Steve with this. God, he was _so stupid_. Such an idiot! What was _wrong_ with him? Idiot, idiot, idiot!

Shuddering, Peter felt the comforting feeling of pen scratching against his skin, Steve writing back to him. Peter thought he'd needed a moment, that he'd not wanted to deal with Peter at the moment. Wasn't that why he'd responded with 'busy?' Carefully, hope dwindling, Peter checked the skin below the beginning of the conversation. Steve had written, _Hey! I'm good. We were just in a meeting, but it was almost done. How about you? How are you?_

Shakily, Peter let out another sob, body shaking with the motion. Steve was too good for him, way too good. Why would Peter think that Steve should be bothered with Peter's problems? He was too perfect, too wonderful for Peter to corrupt with his own idiosyncrasies and foolish insecurities.

The pause after Steve's answer must have concerned him because he wrote soon after, _Spidey? You doing okay? What's wrong?_

Weak. Too weak. Stupid, weak, insecure, _idiot_. The cruel voice in his head didn't stop him from writing quickly, hands still shaking from the sensory overload and the amount of bad emotions running through him, _I screw everything up. I mess up things for everyone and I can't do anything right. I'm too stupid to do_ anything _correctly and it's just… I hate that I never seem to get any better no matter how many screw-ups I make. I just do it again, and again, and again, and again. I hate it. I hate it so much._

Steve's response was immediate, starting almost before Peter had finished, _Whoa, whoa. It's okay. We're okay, alright? You do not screw-up. You are definitely not stupid. In my eyes, you do everything right. What brought this on all of a sudden?_

 _What didn't bring it on? I told you, I screw everything up. It was only a matter of time before I did enough stupid things that I decided to make sure you knew how much of a colossal, stupid mess I was_ , Peter wrote back viciously, skin pink and raw where he'd been pressing too hard into the skin. He was still hiccupping out sobs.

Peter could _hear_ the demand, the order in Steve's tone when he wrote back, _And I told you: you are not stupid. No more calling yourself that. I'm sure you're just having a bad day. There is absolutely nothing you could do that would make me think that you were any sort of screw-up. You are perfect, and I love you, alright? That's never going to change. Ever. You are perfect, and I love you._

Blinking back his tears, Peter wrote, _You're just saying that because of the bond! Because you feel guilty! Guess what? You don't know me! You don't know a thing about me! You can't say that I'm not the things I say I am because you've never met me, not really. So, don't go saying all that stuff about me being_ perfect _. I'm not perfect. If I was perfect… I am not perfect._

There was a long pause, Peter breathing hard into the silence of the room. Steve's reply was slow and hesitant. Peter imagined if he was talking, Steve would have sounded low and hurt, _Spiderman, please don't say that. I know that this situation isn't ideal, but don't say that I only care about you because a mark says I'm supposed to. We've spent a long time talking to each other, getting used to each other, falling in love with each other. That wasn't the mark, that was you. You made me fall in love with you and I don't regret that at all. I might not know everything about you, or even that much about you. I don't know your past, I don't know your life. I do know, however, that you are a massive nerd with more intelligence than my entire team. I know that you ramble when you're nervous, or excited, or confused. I know you want to use a surrogate for some kids and then adopt a ton of others. I know you're a dork who wants a pet tarantula. I know that you care so much, almost too much. I know that you care enough that I'm worried about you sometimes, worried about whether you're going to get home at night. I know that you pile so many things on your plate because you feel guilty if you're not doing something for someone at all times, that you feel wasteful if you're not providing. I know you love easily, but take a lot longer to start to trust someone. I might not know what you feel like. I might not know what you look like. I might not even know your name. But I know that I love you with every fiber in my being. That will_ never _change._

For a long, long time, Peter couldn't respond. His sobs doubled in force, enough to almost send him tumbling out of his makeshift nest. These tears felt cleansing, though. It felt like his heart was breaking and reforming with each word Steve said. Steve just cared _so much_. He was just such a perfect person and Peter loved him with all of his might, loved the thought of the man, loved the stories he left behind, the pictures he traced into Peter's skin. Peter wrote shakily, _I just really want to hug you right now. I just really, really want to be with you. So much._

There was so much hurt, so much passion and heartbreak and weary sadness when Steve responded, _I know, buddy, I know. I wish more than anything that we could be together, too. You don't know how much I want to pull you into my arms and just hold you. I want to be there to comfort you and protect you, but I can't. I can't and I'm so, so sorry._

 _Never be sorry for being who you are,_ Peter wrote back, horrified that Steve could think that any of this was his fault. It was just his Parker luck that his soulmate situation worked out this way.

Steve's response made him hiccup out a watery laugh, _Hey, you can't say that to me after I just spent all that time trying to convince you of the same thing!_

The conversation petered off. Peter fingered his mark again, imagining wistfully that, wherever Steve was, he was doing the same thing, imagining that he could feel Steve's touch through the mark. His heart hurt at the thought.

Suddenly, there were more words forming, _Do they still have that exhibit about me at the museum?_

Confused, but starting to get a dawning realization of what Steve was going for, Peter wrote back, _Pretty sure. Actually, yeah, I'm certain. I remember swinging by a sign for it the other day._

Steve's answer was firm, _If the museum is still open, go over there now. I know it's nothing like the real deal, but it's something. Whenever you're upset, go sit in the museum exhibit. It's as close as you can get to me in the situation we're in. It might help or it might make it worse. We've just got to see._

Peter blinked past tears, lips twitching up in a hesitant smile. He started crawling down the walls, walking faster and faster once he reached the ground, until he was flat out running towards the museum. It was a little ways away, but Peter needed to burn the negative emotions off.

He was huffing out little breaths when he finally got there. He knew that he had to look like something of a mess, hair windswept, clothes covered in little spots of grime, out of breath and sweating, tear streaks and puffy eyes adoring his face. The security guard gave him one look over and whispered to the ticket person that she got the ticket. Peter gave her a grateful nod and she patted him on the back as he passed her by.

He moved quickly through the exhibits, finally slowing when he caught sight of Steve's grinning face. He blinked away tears, reaching out to touch the glass in front of one of the pictures. It really was a miracle that the place was still as it was with Steve being a war criminal and all. Peter swallowed and continued to walk through the museum.

He found himself in a room wired up with speakers. There were videos all around the room with Steve giving different motivational speeches, acting in different movies. Feeling something in him settle, Peter turned on every single video and just sat in the middle of the room, eyes closed and sounds washing over him, soothing his sensory overload and his raw emotions. After a brief moment of just _breathing_ , Peter took out his pen and wrote out, _Thank you so much. I'm sorry I can't do the same for you._

 _You kind of do,_ Steve answered immediately, writing calmer, _There are a lot of news reels about you and youtube videos. I've got a lot of them saved. If I feel like I need to be near you, to touch you, I watch those videos. It doesn't take away the whole ache, but it certainly helps._

 _This will get better_ , Peter wrote back, suddenly convinced of this, hope blossoming with every soothing cadence of Steve's voice, _This will get better. We'll get back to each other soon. This won't last forever._

 _I believe you_ , Steve wrote.

They didn't say anything more that evening. Without even asking, Peter knew that Steve was watching the videos of him while he was listening to the recordings of Steve. They were as close to each other as they could be. It would have to be enough.

 **Author's Note: So… kind of a sad one? Sorry! Also, way longer than usual, but I just adored the idea that much. Thanks for reading! I'm always open to suggestions!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: As per anonymous's reminder that I haven't written for this story for a while, here's another chapter! This was suggested by Nitany on AO3! Read, review, and enjoy!**

SSSSSS

Steve heard cursing over his comms, spreading throughout the rest of his team as they all took in the situation. He felt his usual admonishment – "Language," – rising on his tongue, but couldn't force himself to say anything. His team had a legitimate reason to curse this time.

Standing there in the military base in front of them was Tony Stark. _Tony Stark_. Splayed out behind him in a resplendent burst of color was the rest of his team, Vision, Rhodey, and… and _Spiderman_? _Spiderman_ was here? Steve couldn't help his own curse from tumbling out. With wide eyes, Steve watched as Stark shook hands with the head of the military base (and, from the research Steve's team had done, suspected Hydra member), smiling charmingly with that hint of barely disguised boredom-disgust-superiority-distraction that was trademark Stark. Spiderman was bouncing on the balls of his feet behind the group, head practically on swivel, huge bug eyes contracting and expanding depending on where he turned his head.

Steve hadn't really gotten a good look at the young hero during their only interaction. He'd been busy fighting people he knew, trying to figure out a way to get himself and his team out of that mess, away from the airport and away from the Avengers, towards the people they were trying to stop. It hadn't even occurred to him to take more notice of the tiny hero beyond a moment of idle conversation. Sure, he'd noticed that the kid had insane reaction times (something that Spiderman called his 'spider sense') and an impressive amount of strength (it's not that easy to catch a truck like that).

Now, though, Steve could _watch_ and _notice_ and _look_. Spiderman was even smaller than Steve remembered, limbs thin and still slightly gangly through the suit. There was definitely a layer of muscle, but also a hint of boniness that spoke to his age. The suit hugged every part of him perfectly, sculpting out an image of what lied underneath. The mask was the worst part, though, completely hiding his face from view. Based on Spiderman's tendency to ramble, Steve felt like Spiderman would have an expressive face and he wanted to see the emotions play over Spiderman's face. Although, to be honest, he really just wanted to see Spiderman's face in general. Or learn his name. Or actually talk to him instead of writing to him. Or hold his hand. Or go on that date they'd been talking about. Or be able to be with him and not be stuck in opposite places in this messed up conflict. Or _anything_.

It was Falcon's hand on his arm that broke Steve out of his near trance, "You doing okay, man? We need you in the game for this."

Steve took a shuddering breath, "Look at him, Sam."

Sam's eyes flickered towards the tarmac, his lips pulled downwards in confusion. Then, he apparently saw something because his mouth fell open and he cursed again, "I didn't even think about that. God, I didn't make that connection. I'm sorry, man."

Wanda's voice was sharp over the comms, " _What connection?_ "

It was Natasha who answered, " _Spiderman is down there. It's going to be hard for Steve to go against Spiderman._ "

Wanda's curse was, at least, in Sokovian. Steve took a deep breath and shook his head, "Let's just ignore that. I'm being ridiculous. Obviously, we need to rethink our plan. First step to reorganizing our plan is to see what the Avengers are doing." It hurt to say Avengers and mean someone else, but Steve had gotten used to it by now, "Let's hope that they don't decide to stay at the base. I don't think they will because Spiderman's still got a secret identity, but they might anyways."

Everyone gave a soft affirmation, Falcon squeezing Steve on the shoulder before heading back to his location.

They watched for a long time, the afternoon slipping by in a lazy swirl of muttered conversations and ambling personnel. The Avengers had followed the suspected Hydra member (and that had raised Steve's hackles, made him want to burst out of cover and go protect what was his from Hydra; he'd lost enough to them already) into the compound, disappearing for hours.

It wasn't until twilight that they finally reemerged. Steve's gaze immediately moved to Spiderman, checking him out for injuries, trying to read how the day went through Spiderman's expressions. He was prevented from doing both of things by the suit and distance, but Steve consoled himself with the fact that none of the Avengers looks particularly alarmed or angry and Spiderman wasn't limping or favoring any limbs. Steve might not have the best impression of Stark, but he still respected the man. Stark was scared and guilty and doing what he thought was right. Steve really believed that they all would have been able to work it out if they'd sat down and talked about it. There was no time, though. No chance to work it out through the threat of other super soldiers and the machinations of a madman and Bucky's confusion.

Steve shook the thoughts out of his head. This wasn't the time nor place. He needed to focus on seeing where the Avengers went. If they left the compound instead of heading towards the barracks, then Steve's team could attack that night. If not, well, Steve would have to rethink everything.

Thankfully (or maybe not because the sight of Spiderman flying away _burned_ in a way that not a lot of other things did), the Avengers left immediately after that, flying away in a high tech helicopter. Steve didn't know where they were going or how long they were going to be gone. He waited a half an hour to make sure that they wouldn't be able to get back in time if they were brought in for help, then he struck.

The team moved magnificently. After the time they'd put in together with the rest of the Avengers and the time they'd had to get used to working in a smaller team with a more select group of abilities, they were a well-oiled machine. Steve didn't think he'd be able to work together with a team as smoothly and flawlessly as he did with the Howling Commandos, but that was okay. They were from another time, a simpler one with less grey and more concrete goals. People trusted the heroes to get things done the way they needed to be done. There was no need for the Sokovia Accords, no need to take away the rights of the people who were trying to save the world. Steve knew that the rest of the Howling Commandos would be just as indignant about the Accords as Steve was. He knew that they'd make the perfect team, one he could trust implicitly, could understand. They knew everything about each other. There were no secrets and no judgement. Just… Captain American and his Howling Commandos.

Still, they were gone, dead, left behind with the man that Steve used to be, used to be _able_ to be. They didn't belong in this new world any more than Steve and Bucky did. The didn't deserve to be put through the trials and horror of this world the way Steve and Bucky had been.

That logic, that knowledge that he didn't want the Commandos in this time (he wanted to be in their time) was what allowed him to work with and lead the Avengers and this new team. They were different, but that didn't always mean worse. And maybe they'd never work as well together as Steve did with the Commandos, but they had a different strength, a different point that made them an amazing team. And Steve was okay with that (he really wasn't; he wanted to go home and bring his best buddy with him. He wanted to find his old friends and fall apart with them and celebrate the end of the war. He wanted to bring his soulmate with him, introduce the gangly hero to his team and watch them accept him, watch them treat him better than he was being treated. He really wasn't okay…).

Steve had to physically shake the melancholy away again, sighing into his arms.

They were back at their temporary base, getting in a few hours of rest before they headed out to a new location, this mission labeled complete and compromised. Steve was too wired with emotions to properly go to sleep. Instead, he sat on his mat and brooded.

The feeling of a pen over his skin jolted him back into the moment. Spiderman was writing, _So, Mr. Stark just said that the Secret Avengers made an attack on the military base that we were checking out. You okay?_

Steve stared down at the words, irrationally upset and frustrated and lost in the past. There was resentment and _grief_ and anger swirling around in his mind and Steve took the only outlet he had (and probably the worst one to take). He wrote back roughly, _Why do you stay with Stark?_

The pause that followed his question was lengthy. Steve wondered if he'd scared off his outlet before he'd even really gotten started. It was a valid question, though. Why would Spiderman stay with Stark when he _knew_ what the man had done, knew what the Sokovia Accords were, knew _everything_?

Spiderman's answer was shaky and obviously hesitant, _I mean, he makes my suit. And he makes sure I have enough money to make my web fluid. You know that I don't really have all that much money just sitting around. It's hard to get the supplies to make my web fluid without stealing from Chemistry class in school. What else would I do, anyways? We live in the same city. Even if I tried to avoid him, I wouldn't be able to. I'm not exactly low profile and he knows where I live._

Steve could feel the anger mounting at Spiderman's words. The worst part was that Steve recognized that the anger wasn't directed at Spiderman at all – the other hero's words were nothing but logical. They made sense and were obviously meant to appeal to whatever mood Steve was in. Spiderman had neglected to bring in his massive heart which wouldn't let him leave the self-destructive Tony Stark alone. He neglected to mention the loyalty he had to the man that made sure that Spiderman had enough money in the house to pay for enough food to eat without becoming a charity case. He neglected to mention the responsibility he felt to prove himself to Stark because the man had helped Spiderman with so many things. Spiderman didn't mention those things, probably realizing that they would set Steve off.

Trying to bring himself under control (and not quite managing it), Steve scribbled out, _You could join my team. You know roughly where we are right now. I could go and find you in New York, no matter that it would mean that I'm closer to Stark for a brief moment of time. I could find you in New York and take you with us. We could be a team. We could get to know each other. You don't have to stay with Stark. He doesn't need you like I do._ Steve recognized that his handwriting was atrocious, that his mother probably would have come after him with a cat o' nine-tails if she'd seen him writing like this. He recognized that what he was asking was entirely unfair and cruel. He couldn't bring himself to care.

The pause before Spiderman's response was even longer than before. Again, Steve wondered if he was going to answer at all. This response was a lot slower, words almost neat as Spiderman carefully (Spiderman was never careful unless he was upset and trying not to show it because he had this need to not let others see him upset) thought out the response, _Steve, you know I can't do that. I have school and my family and my best friend. Besides, you know why I turned down being an official Avenger. I want to be there for the little guys, be the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, you know? My home needs protecting and if I'm not there, then who'll protect them?_

 _I can find a safe place for your family, one where they'd be treated with a lot more respect than they seem to be finding in New York,_ Steve desperately explained, _I can get you schooling there, too. We can do missions when you're not in school there. They probably have a better education system than America does._

There was obvious amusement in Spiderman's words when he wrote, _Blasphemous! Captain America says that something is better than America?_

Steve didn't mean to snap (but he didn't really mean a lot of what he was saying), _I'm not Captain America anymore!_

There was another long pause that Steve was beginning to associate with Spiderman feeling hurt before the slow, careful words showed up, _Right. I knew that. Sorry._

Steve didn't address the apology, instead continuing, _And I'm sure someone else can look after New York. There are the Defenders there, right? They can deal with a little bit more of the city. New York has the Avengers and the Fantastic Four, too. The X-men aren't all that far away. One of them would take over for what you did if you left._

The words weren't just slow and careful and hurt anymore. There was a hint of coldness to it when Spiderman answered, _So you're saying that New York doesn't need me, that I'm easily replaceable_.

Sick to his stomach that Spiderman could ever think that way and angry that he would pervert Steve's words like that, Steve scribbled back, _You know that's now what I meant! Why are you so resistant to this idea? Do you not want to be with me?_

The pause that occurred after that was the longest that Steve had ever experienced with Spiderman. Sure, there had been times where one of them had written something and the other had taken a while to get to a point where they could look at and respond to the comment, but that was about it. If one or the other had to leave in the middle of a conversation, they always left a little note of warning first. They never left each other for really long periods of time.

Except, apparently, this time.

Two hours after his latest outburst, Steve was completely ashamed of his actions. What had he been _thinking_? This was just as hard on Spiderman as it was on him and he shouldn't try to pressure Spiderman into something he couldn't possibly do. What was wrong with him? And now he'd gone and run off the only good thing in his life (Spiderman wasn't really the only good thing. He was certainly the best, the perfect person to match to Steve's personality, but there were other things. Steve had a great team and a lot of good friends. He had a roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, and food to eat. He had Bucky waiting for him in Wakanda. He was just feeling melodramatic and depressed.)

He was about a minute away from breaking down into tears and about two away from a full blown panic attack when Spiderman answered. The words were still being carefully written, stern and bold, but it was still an answer, _I want to start this by saying that I'm sorry if I've done something to upset you. I don't know what it is or when I did it, but I'm sorry. That being said, this was an unnecessary low blow. You know that I want to see you and meet you properly. I want it as badly as you want it. You also know how I feel about where I am and the responsibilities that I have here. You know that and have accepted that. I will not leave my family to fend for themselves and I will not bring them along with me to become an international war criminal either. We talked about that. The same way we talked about smuggling you into the country to come live with me and my family and vetoed that. The same way we talked about you coming back and trying to change things the way the government wants you to so you'd be at least in a jail I could theoretically visit you in. We vetoed that too. We talked about this and we agreed. If you want something that I can't give, then we can't be together at all._

Steve wrote back desperately, words a shapely and proper cursive instead of the angry scrawl they'd been earlier that night, _No, no! That's not what I want at all! I want you, Spiderman. Please. I'm sorry for what I said. All of it. I just… I saw you at that base today. I looked right at you and couldn't do a thing to get your attention or talk to you or be with you in the way I so desperately wanted to. And then, fighting with my team reminded me of fighting with the Howling Commandos. Seeing the Avengers reminded me of when I was an Avenger. Today was just endlessly being reminded of the things I can't have and the things I've lost. I took it out on you and I shouldn't have done that._

 _No, you shouldn't have. But I'm kind of glad that you did. I would always rather you take stuff out on me than someone else. And you apologized, so it's all good,_ Spiderman paused before rushing out, _You know, when I went to the Captain America exhibit at the museum, I pretty much only payed attention to the stuff that was only about you. I didn't really learn all that much about the Howling Commandos. Could you tell me more about them?_

Steve felt himself calming further, closing his eyes and pressing his fingers against his soulmate's words. Spiderman was too good for him. Too good and too perfect. Hesitantly, not wanting to break the moment, Steve wrote, _I'll tell you about them in a second. I have to ask something, though. This was, I guess, our first real fight. Are we alright?_

There was no pause, no hesitation this time, _We're alright. At least, from my point of view. Are we alright from yours? I know it had to have been hard to have seen me like that, standing there with the team that fought you, not being able to come to me. This was a sucky situation for you and I didn't help any. We good?_

 _Absolutely_ , Steve wrote back resolutely. There was no way he was going to let this get between them. He loved Spiderman with every fiber in his being. After a second, he found a relatively large patch of open skin and started writing, _Now, the Howling Commandos. Whatever history says about us, we were not dignified in any way. We were insane. All over the place. We were a bunch of guys in the middle of a messed up war. We were a complete mess. But they were amazing. I will always respect them more than anyone else. We were brothers in every sense of the word. There was obviously Bucky. Then there was Dum Dum Dugan. His name was something like Timothy or something like that, but everyone always called him Dum Dum. There was Jim Morita. He was pretty nice. Gabe Jones, Jacques Dernier. There were a lot of Howling Commandos in the end. Apparently Dum Dum took over after Buck and I were presumed dead and a couple people left and a few joined up._

Steve spent the rest of the night and long into early morning writing up everything he could about the Howling Commandos. Spiderman threw in questions here or there and Steve occasionally drew a quick image of what he was talking about. In the end, Spiderman had to deal with the aftermath of Steve's team's attack on the military base on zero sleep and Steve had to deal with a quick retreat from the country on zero sleep.

But it was worth it.

 **Author's Note: Always looking for more ideas! Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I haven't updated this in a while, so I figured I'd get out a quick chapter while I have a break from homework. This is based off of a request from nitwix_fangirl on AO3. Read, review, and enjoy!**

PPPPPP

Peter was sick. This, he knew with complete certainty. What was less clear was _how_ he got sick. From what him and Mr. Stark had been able to tell, the spider bite had made it so he physically _could not_ get sick.

Then again, it might have had something to do with yesterday's weirdo. This one was pretty low-key and relatively easy to take down, but still a creepy weirdo old man who found joy in beating Peter's teenaged self. Creep. Anyways, he had been dressed in some sort of wacko doctor's uniform from the medieval ages and had been spewing nonsense about the plague to end all plagues. Peter was pretty sure he was one of those crazies who figured the best way to show people that they needed to wash their hands more was to give them a deadly plague. People were extreme like that. Anyways, Peter had taken him down and left him to the devices of the cops. He'd webbed up the little orbs of deadly plague that the man had been planning on breaking in the streets, making sure that the orbs were secured and cushioned in the webbing before he took off and left them with someone Mr. Stark trusted so the webbed-up orbs could get somewhere safe where they can't hurt anyone.

Maybe he shouldn't have grabbed the orbs to wrap them in the webs. Maybe he should have shot the webs over them and wrapped them up and _then_ picked them up. He'd been wearing his gloves, though! It shouldn't have gotten through to him! Sluggishly, his brain (which sounded more and more like Karen every day) reminded him that he'd tripped fantastically earlier in the day, landing with his palms out and gouging his hand through a rough chunk of broken concrete on the ground. Although his skin had healed by that point, the suit did not self-heal and it had probably gone in direct contact with the plague orbs.

Awesome. Well, Peter was pretty sure that he only got a tiny bit of the plague from the plague orbs and that his immune system was good enough that he'd only get a little taste of the plague anyways (the part of his brain that sounded like Karen reminded him that symptoms could include clouded judgement; he ignored it).

Peter was also aware of the fact that he was miserable and couldn't wake May up. She'd taken up another shift to keep them going even though Peter had started a small job at a newspaper and Mr. Stark did his best to sneakily make sure that the Parker family was in any real sort of financial trouble. This second shift went late into the night and she'd probably just gotten to sleep. She needed all the hours of sleep she could get. Peter couldn't wake her up for something so simple!

It was a little after two in the morning. He only had about four hours before they'd both be awake anyways. He could wait that long.

About five minutes later made him think that maybe he couldn't last that long after all. His head _ached_. His throat _ached_. His joints _ached_. The slowly healing knife wound next to his ribs _ached_. _Everything_ ached. He was unbelievably miserable. There was a hacking couch that he did his best to stifle – only making it worse. He couldn't wake May up, though. That would be bad.

As the room settled into a temperature somewhere between ice age and encased in a block of ice, Peter raggedly thought that maybe he wasn't thinking too straight. Or, well, straight at all. Or… maybe he just wasn't really think…ing? What?

Peter groaned and buried his face into his arms, displacing a small mountain of tissues next to him. He was pretty sure that death was the better option at this point in time.

Death. Dead. Died. Dying. Peter blinked and squinted as he tried to think of why that word seemed important to him. He squinted more. A shaky memory of talking to his parents about it surfaced, gleaming slightly in his foremind before faded back into inky, murky depths. Like a really old Magic 8 ball that didn't quite work right anymore. He blinked again. Steve. Steve died? Steve told Peter that he was dying! Yes, that was it!

Peter smiled dreamily to himself. He really, really liked Steve. Steve was kind of really awesome. Except not kind of because he was totally awesome. In all the awesomest ways. Without even thinking about it, Peter was slapping around him in search for a pen of some sort.

He ended up fallen halfway off the bed, blood rushing painfully and sudden to his head. He'd needed to take a second and just breathe through the rush and the pain and the gunk that had accumulated in his lungs and nose and throat. Then, he uncapped the pen and started writing on skin, _I really, really love you Steve!_ He added a shakily drawn heart for good measure. He could feel himself smile sappily again.

There was only a brief pause where Peter hacked uncontrollably into his palm for a good couple seconds before Steve wrote back hesitantly, _I love you too, Spidey. Aren't you supposed to be in bed right now, though?_

 _I'm in bed! I'm writing to you from in my bed! I just had to tell you how much I love you. Because I love you a lot. And you're really beautiful and handsome. And you're super nice. And pretty. And you have abs. I don't know if I'm in to abs. But you have them, so I have to be into them_ , Peter informed him.

Peter could imagine a laugh, a bright joy in Steve's words when he wrote back, _I'm glad you like my abs and that you think I'm nice and handsome. I'm sure under that mask, you're just as beautiful. I love you a lot, too. You're so nice and loyal and brave and perfect. I don't know if I've ever told you that. You're perfect, okay Spidey? I love you._ The heart that Steve drew wasn't shaky like Peter's at all. It was crisp and beautiful and detailed and just as wonderful as Steve. Peter beamed down at his skin, smile so big and dopey that it felt like it was going to stay there forever. He took another moment to just smile at the words written in that elegant script along his skin.

He penciled back, _You're my rock, Steve, my everything. I couldn't do anything without you._ He was sniffling at this point, just so happy and so in love that he couldn't help it (the vague Karen-like part of his brain was yelling at him that he should be more concerned about the practically-delirious state he was currently in).

Peter could feel the gushy, sappy love that Steve had to be feeling when he wrote back, _You're my everything, too, buddy. You're my world. Now, as much as I'm loving this version of you that's just as cheesy as I am, I'm going to have to assume that you're tired. Want me to draw for you until you fall asleep?_

Straightening with happiness, eyes crinkling at the corner with the idea that Steve was going to _draw_ for _Peter_ , Peter quickly scribbled back, _Yes, please!_

Steve immediately started drawing. The feeling of the pen against his skin was the closest to a hug he was going to get from the older man and Peter felt himself relaxing into the bed, tissues piling up around him as he was lulled past the sickness and into a dreary sleep by the soothing feeling on his skin. There was a small, infinitely detailed bouquet being drawn on his wrist when he finally drifted off.

Waking up was worse than trying to get to sleep. If possible, Peter felt _worse_ than he'd felt when he'd drifted off to sleep. Most of the confused delirium was gone, though, so that was good. He wasn't sure if that was something that came or went or whatever, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Hopefully, May hadn't gone into his room when he was in that kind of state. Or, better yet, hopefully Peter hadn't gotten his phone out to text anyone. He'd done that when he was younger and still regularly able to get sick. It was so mortifying. Determined to check, Peter reached across himself for his phone.

As his hand was passing in front of him, Peter caught sight of a beautiful little bouquet. Eyes narrowing, Peter followed the trail of drawings to a conversation that _definitely_ hadn't been there the night before. No. No way. He did _not_. He read the conversation with mounting horror.

He quickly scrabbled for a pen, jumping when he realized that he had _no_ idea where he was. He froze, arms in a weird, flailing position.

It was only Happy's voice that calmed him, "Relax kid. You're in the upstate infirmary. Your Aunt May called Tony and said that you were burning up and unresponsive, so we brought you here. Heck of a cold you caught, kid."

"Don't I know it," Peter groaned, voice unbelievably raspy. He didn't know if Happy had even understood him.

More relaxed now that he knew where he was, Peter started peering around him. There, on the little table right next to the hospital bed, was a pen. Peter reached out for it, grabbing it and clicking it open before finding a spot next to that embarrassing conversation and writing, _We are never speaking of this again._

Steve's response came just as Peter was starting to drift off, _Aw, but you were being so cute._

 _I hate you_ , Peter wrote, head spinning as he groaned again. Being sick _sucked_.

There was a definite laugh in Steve's voice when he wrote back, _I love you too._ He drew a simple heart next to it.

Peter, still a little embarrassed, but mainly still feeling sick and wanting for comfort, drew a little heart of his own, the edges overlapping those of Steve's, two hearts connected forever.

 **Author's Note: Oh my god, that was so sappy. Sorry, not sorry. Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Yikes, it's been a while since I've updated this. Oops :P College leads to a whole lot less free time than summer vacation did. Thanks for keeping up with this story! This one was suggested by Samantha L. Riddle with the technicalities of the soulmate words credited to spiderwebdesign (on AO3)! Read, review, and enjoy!**

SSSSSS

Steve squinted down at his arm, not quite sure what it was that Spiderman was trying to draw for him. He was drawing it right next to one of the earliest things Steve had ever drawn. It was a little comic strip from the newspaper years and years ago, from when Steve was maybe three or four. Like with all soulmate conversations, it had faded with time, shrinking into itself, a miniature photo of a past age.

It was kind of like their relationship that way. There was the part of their relationship where Steve was hopelessly alone, convinced that his soulmate hated him and there was no chance of any sort of relationship between them. That part of him was firmly in the past, faded photos, it's history and the people from that time shrunken down and read through modern day context. Then there was the conversations they'd had in the time since they'd met each other: bright and big and full of every instance of love that could fit between them. The symbolism only made their conversations that much sweeter.

From across the table, Natasha rolled her eyes at Sam, "His soulmate's talking to him."

"How can you tell?" Sam asked, leaning over the table to look at the bits of exposed skin on Steve's arms. Steve made a face at them.

Natasha answered easily, "He's making that unbearably stupid dork face."

"I see it," Sam said sagely, nodding.

Steve decided that making faces at them wasn't working and he was just going to ignore them instead. Despite his determination to ignore them, his super hearing didn't let him. He heard it when Sam asked curiously, "What even is he trying to draw?"

Steve glanced up and saw that they were both craned over the table to look at his arm. Giving up on ignoring them, Steve put his arm in the table, watching them both sink back into their seats, watching his arm intently.

He still wasn't entirely certain what it was that Spiderman was trying to draw, either. There was a square with… a man? Holding his hand out to a… butterfly? There might be some bushes behind the man, Steve wasn't entirely certain. There was a line on the man's chest and another above the butterfly. At the bottom of the square (but still inside it) were the words "Is this" followed by another line. There was a long pause after the drawing was complete.

Tilting his head to the side, Steve wrote, _?_.

Natasha snorted, "You don't know what that is?"

Sam gave her an incredulous, slightly worried look, "You _do_?"

Rolling her eyes, Natasha stood up, going towards the back of the house they were staying in for the duration of their current mission, "If you don't know, I'm not going to take the time to explain it for you. Spider-kid is probably about to explain it anyways." She glided the rest of the way out of the room.

"Don't call him Spider-kid," Steve muttered subconsciously. He'd seen Spiderman fight terms like 'Spider-baby,' 'Spider-kid,' and 'Underoos' on the news on multiple occasions. It had sort of trained him to react the same way Spiderman would. That was probably a bad thing.

Sam craned over the table to get a better angle to read Steve's arm as Spiderman finally started writing. He didn't write much, though, only stating, _It's a meme!_

There was a pause where Steve and Sam stared at each other. Then Sam snorted, pushing his fist against his lips to try to contain more of his laughter. Steve rolled his eyes and shoved at him. Spiderman was writing again, _So, basically, you replace the lines with different words that tie it all together. In the thing this is originally from, the guy saw the butterfly and was like, "Is this a pigeon?" It became a meme. Like, so, there's one where the guy is labeled as 'me,' the butterfly is labeled as 'life,' and the bottom says, "Is this a waste of time?" Like that! I'm beginning your meme education._

Steve gazed fondly at his arm, Sam taking Natasha's regular spot of making gagging noises. He wrote back, _And who says I need a meme education? Also, maybe you could just write the name of the meme next time? Wait, do memes have names? But aren't they different for different situations? I'm confused._

Steve could _hear_ the eyeroll in Spiderman's response, _After that response, who could possibly deny that you need a meme education? Don't worry, we'll get to all of that in later chapters. For today, you need only learn this meme. Class dismissed._

Making gagging noises again, Sam leaned away, "I'm done snooping. You two are too smushy for me. It's disgusting. Enjoy your meme education while I go figure out how _Natasha_ knows about this meme."

"You're going to go look up the meme," Steve accused.

A small curl of Sam's lips gave him away before he could even pretend to deny it, "Yeah, I'm going to go look up the meme."

 **Author's Note: So… not my best work? Sorry! I'm getting back into this story while also trying to write several other stories and, well, college. You know. Such in life. I am, however, not leaving this story and will always take recommendations for future chapters! I've got a list that I'm working on now, but I welcome more! Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Here's me trying to keep up with too many stories at once. Hope you enjoy the chapter anyways! This was suggested by Radio Rascal, so kudos to them! Read, review, and enjoy!**

PPPPPP

Peter stretched languidly, scratching idly at the back of his neck. He paused in that position for a moment before putting a hand in front of his mouth (May and Ben raised him classy after all) and giving a huge yawn. He wrinkled his nose a little bit and blinked away the reflexive tears and the lingering sleepiness.

Happy peered at him over the rims of his sunglasses, Disapproving Gaze levelled through the rearview mirror, "You been spending too much time on patrol?"

Peter flushed momentarily, "No! Nope. Never. May and Mr. Stark were really strict about how late I'm allowed to stay out each night and I try really hard to keep up with that. It's kind of scary when Mr. Stark is mad at me. It's really, _really_ scary when May is mad at me. It's downright _world-ending_ when May _and_ Mr. Stark are mad at me."

Raising an eyebrow just over the edge of the sunglasses, Happy faced back towards the road, "What were you doing, then? Homework? Building your little Lego sets with your… _guy in the chair_?" Peter was honestly offended for Ned. He had never heard someone put that much disdain into a name before, which was especially impressive because Happy was generally disdainful about most things.

Shaking his head, Peter answered, "Nope and nope! None of those things. It's fine. I'm good. I'm really not that tir-," Peter was cut off, embarrassingly enough, by a yawn stretching out his jaw and stealing his breath.

"Uh huh," Happy responded, entirely unimpressed.

"Look," Peter said, trying to pull out his inner interrogator mode voice (the nice bad guy that had helped Peter with the whole ferry thing had actually been helping Peter out with that whole process; he was actually pretty nice when you got to know him and his nephew was a huge Spiderman fan), "It's none of your business."

Although Peter couldn't see it through the sunglasses, he knew that Happy was rolling his eyes when he threw back, "You know that Tony is going to ask these same questions when you get to the compound. Better get your story straight now rather than stumbling through it later when he interrogates you." He sounded exhausted and at the end of his rope. Peter wasn't sure how to take that. Peter was _pretty_ certain that Happy secretly liked him, but sometimes it was really hard to tell. Maybe Happy did that on purpose. Maybe it made him, well, _happy_ when he confused other people. Who was Peter to judge, really?

Wrinkling his nose when he realized that Happy was probably right, Peter sighed, rubbing his forehead, "I got into a conversation with my soulmate and we accidentally stayed up all night talking. Normally, at least one of us remembers that it's bed time in my time-zone since I'm pretty stationary, but we got distracted last night." They'd been talking about some romantic stuff, describing the perfect date they were going to go on when they finally got together. They'd talked about what meeting the family would look like in the vaguest possible manner because the bond was really picky. They picked a restaurant and picked meal items and talked about how they'd eat it and what they'd talk about. It almost, _almost_ felt like they were actually on the date, hopelessly in love and forgetting to eat their food because they were so engrossed in each other's eyes. Still, that was no excuse for the way they stayed up through the entire night. Peter hadn't exactly regretted it come school time, but he certainly would have enjoyed that physics test a whole lot more if he'd have had at least a partial night's sleep.

Happy shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat, "Ah, okay. Sorry, didn't mean to ask you about that." It was generally pretty taboo to talk about soulmates. Not, like, debilitatingly so, but still. A little bit. Normally, intimate details about soulmates were only shared among family members and close friends. Lesser details like I-stayed-up-all-night-talking-to-him were reserved for good friends. Peter wasn't really sure where Happy fell on the friendship scale, but he still didn't mind telling him about it.

On further thought, Peter wasn't really sure where Mr. Stark fell on the friendship scale either. Mr. Stark was his mentor and almost seemed to be doing this really bizarre co-parenting thing with May and he was technically Peter's boss through the internship thing. It was all rather complicated. But Peter was also not too thrilled with Mr. Stark after the whole incident in Germany. He _knew_ that Mr. Stark had good reasons for doing what he did, and he _knew_ that Steve had good reasons for doing what he did, but still. That didn't excuse lying to Peter about what was going on, manipulating him into helping. Not that Peter needed a lot of manipulating, but the point still stood. Maybe if Mr. Stark had told him the truth – the _whole_ , unbiased truth, - he would have been able to help. An outside view kind of thing, you know?

Still, it didn't matter in the long run. The past was the past and you couldn't change it (Peter studiously ignored the Empire State Building sized brick of guilt about the past and the what if's he carried around religiously). That didn't mean that Peter couldn't feel the tiniest bit miffed that his _soulmate_ was still being forced to live on the run, moving from country to country still trying to help people, but unable to do it the legal way.

Mr. Stark was trying to get over it, though. Well, Mr. Stark was trying to _make up for it_ , actually, but whatever. And he didn't know who Peter's soulmate was, so it was all good. Not really, but still. There was nothing that either of them could do about it and Mr. Stark wasn't entirely in the wrong and he was genuinely trying to fix things. Besides, the Accords were still going strong and Mr. Stark had yet to turn Peter in, so that had to say something, right? Right.

So, Peter hadn't forgiven Mr. Stark, but he was working towards it. Therefore, Peter would probably consider Mr. Stark as a good friend. Not, like, Ned or May level, but maybe MJ level.

Belatedly, Peter realized that he hadn't said anything in response. He flushed a little, "Oh, uh, no problem! It's all good. I don't mind." He paused before flushing further and rushing out, "I mean, unless it bothers you. I don't want to make _you_ uncomfortable or anything. Like, you know. Sorry. Yeah, that." He trailed off, uncomfortably aware that he'd been rambling again. Just another Parker day.

Up in the front seat, Happy didn't deign to comment, instead increasing the speed a little bit until the compound came in sight, a few thankfully short minutes later.

When they rolled to a stop in front of the main building, Happy waited a second before unlocking the doors, commenting quietly, "You know, you don't have to tell Tony anything if you don't want to. A soulmate is yours. Don't let him convince you otherwise."

Peter sent Happy a blinding smile, "You got it!" He saluted the driver even as his heart filled with bubbly warmth. Moments like this really made Peter feel like Happy did care about him, no matter Peter's confusion on the matter most other times.

Peter walked into the building, following the same pathway he'd taken the few other times he'd been there. The lab was pretty much the only place they met up. Sometimes they would go other places during the visit, but it always started and ended in the lab. Part of it was just to help Peter's image as an intern with Mr. Stark, part of it was so they could work on the suit together, and a part of it was because Peter really was genuinely interested in science.

It didn't take Peter long to get to the labs, bustling into the room with a bright, "Hey Mr. Stark!"

Mr. Stark blinked up at him before squinting and announcing, "You look tired. Did you stay up too long patrolling?"

Peter rolled his eyes, " _No_ , I didn't. Which you probably already knew because you obsessively stalk my suit whenever it's active." Mr. Stark shrugged, unrepentant.

Pointing towards a lightly smoking Dum-E, Mr. Stark said, "He's yours today. He got a little over excited about making Rhodey some coffee and accidentally smashed himself into the counter, which caused the coffee to drop on him."

Absentmindedly petting the robot lightly, Peter started to gather what he'd need, "He's like a small child, hyperactive and so eager to please."

"Don't talk about yourself in the third person," Mr. Stark teased. His words were light-hearted, but there was a worried tint to his eyes. Peter wasn't sure if it was because he was worried on how this post-confrontation-about-Germany Peter would take the joke or if it was because Mr. Stark really was that worried about Peter's sleeping habits.

He flushed regardless, cheeks darkening dramatically as he rolled his eyes, "Oh, ha _ha_."

"I thought it was funny," Mr. Stark commented idly, already starting in on the project he'd been working on. Peter shook his head and got to working on Dum-E.

Peter was almost asleep inside the main box that made up Dum-E when Mr. Stark gently shook his shoulder. Peter sat up quickly, almost sending Mr. Stark toppling to the ground, "What? I'm awake!"

Mr. Stark snorted, "This isn't school, kid. Come on, I figured some food might _actually_ wake you up."

Peter blinked at the pizza boxes stacked up in front of him and immediately made a grab for one, instantly shoving the food into his mouth.

He was two pizza slices in when he realized that Mr. Stark wasn't eating, instead staring at his hand, eyes narrowed. With a start, Peter realized that he'd taken his fingerless gloves off and had rolled up his sleeves almost to the elbows in order to work in Dum-E. And he'd forgotten to set himself back to normal in time for the pizza. Which meant that Mr. Stark was staring right at the handwriting on his skin. The handwriting that was from someone Mr. Stark had worked with for a very long time. The probably _very recognizable_ handwriting.

Swallowing hard, Peter tried to act like nothing was wrong, that he hadn't known that Mr. Stark was staring. Maybe if he didn't say anything, then Mr. Stark wouldn't say anything.

"You know, you can tell what kind of person someone is by looking at their handwriting. Your soulmate's handwriting looks vaguely outlaw shaped," Mr. Stark said tightly. No such luck.

Peter set down his pizza and rolled down his sleeves, fitting on his gloves, "That's rude. It's also rude to stare at other people's soul writing like that. My soulmate is _not_ an _outlaw_. Are there even outlaws still out there?" He hated lying. He _hated_ it.

There was still that tight, rough, _shattered_ quality to Mr. Stark's voice when he said, "Don't mess with me, Peter. Is that Steve Roger's handwriting on your skin?"

"No," Peter answered instantly, firmly. He hated himself for lying like that. He hated himself for being afraid of what would happen if Mr. Stark knew that he was soulmates with one of the old Avengers. He hated himself for being able to give that answer so firmly. He hated himself _so much_.

Mr. Stark's agonized gaze had finally switched from Peter's arm to his face. Mr. Stark's voice was low, almost hurt when he said, "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" Peter threw back, throwing his arms in the air and adding for good measure, "Don't you think I'd come to you if I suddenly found out that my soulmate was _Captain America_?"

"Would you?" Mr. Stark asked. Peter had to fight to avoid flinching at the accusations the hurt in that simple question.

Hating himself, hating the situation, hating Mr. Stark a little bit for his part in this, Peter met his eyes and said, "Yes. I would." No, he wouldn't. When did Peter get so good at lying? He sucked at lying. He bumbled and fought his way through the most ridiculous excuses. Maybe there was something to be said about the protective instincts brought out at the thought of a potential threat to his soulmate or soul bond.

Mr. Stark sighed, rubbing a hand over his face wearily, "Right, you're right. Sorry. I shouldn't have accused you like that." Peter stayed silent as Mr. Stark finally took a small bite of his pizza, almost immediately putting it back down, "Look, Peter, I've got a lot of work to catch up on and you still look exhausted. Maybe get an early night of sleep for once. You can take a couple of pies back with you. You can finish some off in the car. I'll get FRIDAY to get Happy out front for you."

"Mr. Stark-," Peter began, but Mr. Stark cut him off.

"Just, it's not your fault, kiddo. I overreacted. Go home and finish up your homework. Go to bed and don't let the various animal themed villains you seem to pick up bite. All that normal teenager jazz," Mr. Stark said, staring down at his pizza like it held the answers to every question he could ask.

Peter bit his lip, torn between staying and leaving. After a second, he sighed and said, "Goodnight, Mr. Stark."

And then he left.

It wasn't until he was safely at home, three boxes of pizza in the fridge and the remnants of the one he'd been eating through the car ride home plopped onto the middle of his bed that Peter really allowed himself to feel the guilt. It crashed into him like a title wave.

That defeated slump and crushed realization in Mr. Stark's eyes were Peter's fault. They were his fault and he told Mr. Stark a huge lie and just…

Breathing in raggedly, Peter pulled out a pen. Steve always told him to contact the older man the moment Peter started feeling like this. He ran a hand over his face before taking a huge bite out of his pizza and finding a spot that was recently freed over the top of his foot, _Hey Steve._

 _Hey, what's up?_ Was Steve's almost immediate response before the man added, _I hope you weren't too tired today. I didn't even think of that last night. Sorry!_

 _It's no problem,_ Peter wrote back.

There was a pause and then, _You okay?_ Appeared in Steve's handwriting. The same handwriting that Mr. Stark recognized, and Peter lied about.

Taking another shaky, ragged breath, Peter wrote back hastily, _Mr. Stark recognized your handwriting and I had to lie to him about it and he just looked so sad and I hate that I did that to him_. He rushed it all out before he could lose the nerve and just let it fester within him.

There was a softness to Steve's response, sympathy and pride and glowing love emanating from the words, _You did what you had to do. Someday, I won't be considered a criminal and I'll come back to you in New York. And we'll go to Stark together, telling him what was going on. He loves you, I can tell. I think you're like his kid to him. He'll forgive you for lying. He'll forgive you anything because you're doing it for the right reasons. I love you_

Peter wrote back a careful, _I love you too_.

He fell asleep sitting up in his bed with his hand pressed over Steve's words, telling himself that it was okay, and he did the right thing, and Mr. Stark wouldn't be mad at him.

 **Author's Note: I'd just like to note that although I am** _ **firmly**_ **Team Captain America, I don't** _ **hate**_ **Tony Stark. I think he's an idiot and the cause of most of Marvel cinema's problems, but he's too pitiful and sad and Peter loves him too much for me to fully hate. So. Just so you know. Thanks for reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Alright, this is a mix of Radio Rascal's request that I do something about each of the different holidays, especially Valentine's day where they're sad they can't get to each other and KenziM's request that Steve is drunk and writing to Peter on Valentine's.**

 **IMPORTANT! I am going to try to binge write some chapters really quick before I watch Endgame, but I HAVE NOT WATCHED ENDGAME YET! IF I GET SPOILERS IN THE COMMENTS, I WILL STOP THIS STORY WITHOUT FINISHING IT! Okay, just letting you know :P**

 **Read, review, and enjoy!**

SSSSSS

Steve was… drunk, honestly. Quite spectacularly drunk. None of his teammates had stopped him when he'd grabbed one of the bottles of Asgardian wine, stalking off towards his temporary room.

It was Valentine's day. _Screw_ Valentine's day.

This was the first one Steve had had to face since meeting his soulmate. Of course, Valentine's days before his soulmate had been spent being miserable over the fact that his soulmate wasn't answering him, but still. This one was worse. Much worse.

He _hated_ not being able to see Spiderman, not being able to talk to him face to face. Not being able to hold him, to cuddle with him, to take him on a date. He wasn't able to get Spiderman a present or sweep him off his feet or lead him to a very romantic date. He wasn't able to endure awkward conversation from family members while he waited for Spiderman to finish getting dressed. He couldn't do any of that.

 _Screw_ Valentine's day.

There was a darker corner of his mind that urged him to start raging at Stark, to start blaming him for his current situation. There was a corner of his mind that begged him to find a mission somewhere, anywhere so he could go beat some bad guys up instead of wallowing here. That part of his mind hissed that he should release his emotions on some bad guys.

But that wasn't fair to the others. Steve had been working them hard the past couple of weeks, moving them from Hydra base to Hydra base, getting closer and closer to their goal. There were definite hints that a lot of the upper echelons of the American government (including Secretary Ross) were Hydra members. Not that that was very surprising given the nature of the Sokovia Accords and the unjust imprisonment Steve's team members had faced. Anyways, this was supposed to be their break.

A nice, calming, momentary break while they weren't immediately needed for a mission and didn't have someone _right_ on their tail chasing them down. It was just happenstance that it happened on Valentine's day. Just happenstance that it gave Steve no outlet for his desperate self-wallowing.

So, with a groan of frustration, of sadness, of guilt, of anger, Steve had uncorked the bottle of Asgardian wine and chugged straight from the thing, eyes closing in reflex as it _burned_ on the way down.

And now… he was drunk. Very drunk. That stuff worked quite well, even on his metabolism. He'd have to keep it away from Spiderman. Spiderman was too young for alcohol, but most didn't affect him. This would. And that would be sad. Steve would be sad if Spiderman got drunk.

Then again, maybe Spiderman was a cute drunk. No. No, that's wrong. He's underage! Drunk underage people aren't cute because they're illegal. Or, well, something like that.

Steve tried to groan again, half-heartedly resenting himself for getting this drunk. The downside of this super alcohol was that it also produced super hangovers. And he had drunk a lot more than was probably recommended.

Still, he was too drunk to properly lament it at the moment.

…What was he thinking about again?

Spiderman! Right, Spiderman.

Spiderman always made him happy. Even on Valentine's day when he was sad because he wouldn't get to see Spiderman. That wasn't Spiderman's fault, though.

Suddenly, Steve was filled with an intense need to make Spiderman understand that he always made Steve happy, even on Valentine's day. Cheeks puffed out in concentration, Steve brought a pen to his calf, squinting down at it.

A crash and a bang moments later reminded Steve that he probably should have sat down before he decided to write on his leg. Or maybe he should have decided to write on something else…

Sam poked his head cautiously through the door, eyebrows raising when he noted Steve's undoubtedly red cheeks and the empty wine bottle rolling gently in place on the floor. Sighing a little bit, Sam muttered, "I am not holding your hair back in the morning."

"Don't worry, mine's short enough that you won't have to!" Steve reminded him cheerfully. Sam just grimaced at him and walked out, closing the door gently behind him. What a good friend. If only Sam and Bucky had gotten along better. Then again, Bucky had been in a little bit of a brainwashed assassin mode, so…

Now Steve was sad again.

Wait! Spiderman made him happy! He needed to tell Spiderman that!

Plopping on the floor, Steve stretched out over his body, able to properly write on his calf this time. Tongue sticking out and eyes squinted in concentration again, Steve carefully (shakily) wrote out:

 _My gift to you is my love_

 _Given from deep within my heart_

 _It is the best I have to offer_

 _And it's yours_

 _Until death do us part_

It was a poem he'd liked for a long time. It was cute and sweet and everything he'd ever wanted to say to a partner. When he'd been trying to describe his feelings for Spiderman, it had just seemed like the right thing to say.

Humming quietly to himself, Steve jotted down another one he remembered:

 _If you were my rose, then I'd be your sun,_

 _Painting you rainbows when the rain comes._

 _I'd change my orbit to banish the night,_

 _As to keep you in my nurturing light._

 _If you were my world, then I'd be your moon,_

 _Your silent protector, a night-light in the gloom._

 _Our fates intertwined, two bodies in motion_

 _Through time and space, our dance of devotion._

 _If you were my island, then I'd be your sea,_

 _Caressing your shores, soft and gentle I'd be._

 _My tidal embrace would leave gifts on your sands,_

 _But by current and storm, I'd ward your gentle lands._

 _If you were love's promise, then I would be time,_

 _Your constant companion til stars align._

 _And though we are mere mortals, true love is divine,_

 _And my devotion eternal, to my one Valentine._

There. That would do it. That showed how Steve felt.

He was still glowing with happiness at his accomplishment (and at the thought of Spiderman because, well, Spiderman) when Spiderman wrote back, _Haha, those are super cute! Happy Valentine's Day to you too! How are you doing today?_

 _Better now that I've talked to you!_ Steve chirped back. Could he chirp through writing? Was that how this worked? Steve figured he didn't really want to think about it and would just pretend that he could, just for now. He'd think about it later when he wasn't focusing so much on his love.

Spiderman's response was quick, _Yeah, I can tell. You're pretty chipper over there. Having a good day?_

Steve frowned. Hadn't he explained this to Spiderman already? Idly, he started drawing little flowers made out of hearts next to his poems. He must have already explained that it was _Spiderman_ who made him happy, _despite_ the day. Not _because_ of the day.

Blinking down at his arm, Steve gaped when he realized that he hadn't actually said that. He hadn't explained to Spiderman! Shaking his head, Steve abandoned the flower he'd been working on, frantically writing, _No! No, no! It's not the DAY Spiderman. It's YOU! You're the reason I'm… I'm chipper! You are! Not the day!_

Spiderman's response was a little slower that time, _Oh, um. Okay, that's cool. You make me chipper too? I'm a little confused right now._

 _But I wrote you poems!_ Steve responded back, eyebrows furrowing. The poems! They explained everything!

He could feel the confusion sliding down the bond as Spiderman wrote back, _I'm not really too great at analysing poetry, sorry? Um, also, just a question – you don't have to answer! But, um, are you drunk right now?_

Steve nodded quickly before realizing that Spiderman couldn't see him, _Yes! I am very drunk. But you made me happy! You always make me happy. I was sad that I didn't get to be with you today, but then I remembered that you make me happy even when I can't be with you today! So I told you!_

There was something very much like warm fondness in Spiderman's words when he wrote back quickly, _Aw, that's so sweet! I love you too Steve. Sorry, I don't have any good poems, but I really do love you! Now, I have class, but we'll talk later. Try to sober up! As cute as you are while you're drunk, I'm sure you'll feel better if you try to sober up a little bit first, haha._

Smiling hugely, Steve scrawled back, _Will do! Love you! Talk to you later!_

He'd barely finished writing when the first wave of nausea hit him.

Hours later, Steve would blearily look back through the conversation, realizing that he'd missed Spiderman's attempt to start a conversation when he'd basically fallen into a drunk coma. Not exactly the classiest or most romantic attempt at wooing he'd made, but… it was kind of sweet. Spiderman was sweet about it at least.

Smiling into his chest, Steve just couldn't believe he'd gotten so lucky to have Spiderman. Maybe not quite so lucky to have that Asgardian wine, but… lucky to have Spiderman.

 **Author's Note: I'm going to post as many of these as I can before I watch Endgame! Also, the poems were not mine! They were just ones I found online. I'd add links, but ff doesn't work that way.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: I'm going to binge write as many of these as possible over the next couple of days before I watch Endgame, so they might not be super long, but I hope to at least make them good, haha. This one is based off a prompt by Radio Rascal. Read, review, and enjoy!**

PPPPPP

This was it. He was really going to do this.

Peter took a deep breath through his nose. This was… probably not a good life decision. It was possibly one of the worst he'd ever made. And that was saying something because Peter was pretty good at making bad decisions.

At least, for this one, he'd kind of done some research. Well, he'd gone incognito mode on his phone and tried to research stuff during class because he didn't want May catching him and he really, really didn't want Mr. Stark catching him. It also wasn't exactly the easiest thing to research. How do you look up what to bring when you're planning to go be an international war criminal with your soulmate?

Well, Peter could do without the international war criminal bit, but it was kind of a requirement of going to be with Steve, so he was going to have to deal with it.

This wasn't because Peter didn't love his life in New York or anything! It was just… he loved Steve more? Sure, New York had May and Ned and they were two of the absolute best things in his life. And New York had school which was interesting even if Flash tried his absolute hardest to make it miserable. New York had Mr. Stark who was really nice and helpful and so, so smart. New York had a civilian population that had been relying on Spiderman to keep them safe.

Peter could live without that, though. Just for a little bit! Because that was the thing: Steve's group was working on taking down Hydra and, from what Steve could/would tell him, it sounded like Hydra was pretty deeply intertwined with the US government. That meant that working with Steve and taking down Hydra faster meant that Steve would be pardoned faster and then they could go live in New York together!

Peter just… doesn't want to wait in the meantime, not when he could be doing something. He's not the most experienced hero on the market, but he was there, and he was sure he could add something to the group! Even if that something is just a good distraction, he could add something. He could help.

And yeah, he's doing a lot of good here in New York, but there _are_ other heroes around. The Fantastic Four are even governmentally backed! That's more than he could say for himself. He could leave the city to them. Well, maybe not exactly to them. They didn't really seem to care about the little guys, not in the way Peter does. So, he'd be leaving New York to the Fantastic Four and the Defenders. They're kind of sketch, too, but Peter was pretty good friends with Daredevil for all of his gruffness.

So, Peter had gone to Ned – the only one he'd told his plan to – and asked him to disable every possible tracking, monitoring, reporting bug in his suit. He wouldn't be able to help the Secret Avengers out as much if he was back to wearing his "pyjama suit" as Mr. Stark called it. He also didn't want Mr. Stark to trace him back to the Secret Avengers. So, Ned's help dismantling everything in the suit it was.

While Ned was working on that, hunched over a computer on Peter's bed, eyes squinting down at his work, Peter had packed. He'd grabbed his old pyjama suit just in case and three actual pairs of pyjamas. Then he'd grabbed about a week's worth of clothes, shoving in two pairs of shoes and an extra set of socks because you always need an extra pair of socks.

His toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, hair brush, shower materials, and body spray went in a little bag that he stuck on top of his clothes. He folded up some pictures of his parents, May, Ben, and Ned, and put them in a side pocket for safe keeping. It was probably dumb to bring something so sentimental on his way to be an international criminal (and kind of insensitive because none of the rest of the Secret Avengers had gotten a chance to grab pictures of their loved ones before they were imprisoned and sent on the run), but he couldn't help it. Determination or not, superpowers or not, he was still a kid.

He didn't bring his phone because Mr. Stark could _definitely_ track that. It was going to hurt to not be able to contact anyone, but it needed to happen for the Secret Avengers to stay safe. It couldn't happen any other way.

He didn't bring any other knickknacks or books or special items because he was going to come back. It would just take a little bit to clear Steve and the rests' names and then he'd come home. That was it. That was all he was doing. He wasn't running away for good. And with him to help, it wouldn't be long before the Sokovia Accords were dismantled, and everyone would be able to live free lives again.

That didn't stop the sick, swirling feeling in his stomach as he finished his final step: penning a goodbye (for now!) letter to his aunt. She deserved to know where he was going and why she'd left even if it'd kill her to know that he was putting himself in that much danger. Even if it'd kill her to know that Peter had left her here, completely alone.

The guilt settled further in Peter's stomach, making his shoulders hunch and his eyes burn. This was the right thing to do. He _needed_ to do this. He _needed_ to be with Steve.

It wasn't _fair_ that they didn't get to be together because of some dumb law that was inhumane and horrible and probably created by Hydra! It wasn't fair! And for once in his life, Peter could do something about the unfairness of his life. He couldn't stop his parents from leaving, from dying. He couldn't stop himself from being bitten, couldn't stop Ben from going looking for him that night, couldn't stop Ben from getting shot. He couldn't stop himself from getting bullied, couldn't stop pretending like he was weak at school.

But he could do something about this. He could get up and make a decision and do something about this.

Ned understood at least. Peter knew that it hurt Ned a little bit, hurt him that Peter didn't consider him worth the effort of staying or something like that. That was _wrong_ , but it wasn't entirely wrong. That sounded bad. Peter loved Ned like a brother. They were best friends! But Steve was… Steve was Peter's everything. Sure, their only real interaction had involved them physically fighting and Steve dropping a truck on Peter, but that was okay. Some relationships just had rough beginnings. And this rough beginning was orchestrated by misunderstandings and bad situations.

Clearing his throat slightly, Ned said quietly, "Done."

"Done?" Peter checked, eyes wide. He leapt over the room, landing on the bed with a worrying squeak that caused both him and Ned to grab the frame of the bed in concern. Once the bed had stopped moving and creaking ominously, Peter grabbed the suit, turning it over in his hands as if he'd be able to tell by looking that the monitoring procedures were gone. He didn't bother looking over Ned's code. He knew that Ned knew what he was doing.

Ned nodded, not saying anything, eyes downcast. Licking his lips as the first vestiges of nervousness started to swirl in with the guilt, Peter said, "You know I'm coming back, right?"

"I know," Ned said, still not looking up.

Peter swallowed, "It's just going to be for a little while."

"I know," Ned said. Peter felt his heart crack.

Rubbing his suddenly sweaty palms on his pant legs, Peter put a gentle hand on Ned's shoulder, "Hey, can you look at me buddy?"

Ned took a deep breath before looking up at Peter, "It's okay. I'm okay." Peter winced. He paused for just a moment before enveloping Ned in his arms. He tucked his face between Ned's shoulder and neck and curled himself up next to his best friend. Ned stayed straight as a board for a few painfully long moments before he curled around Peter, deep shuddering breaths shaking the both of them.

Ned whispered quietly, "I don't want you to go. You're going to be in so much danger and I'm not going to be able to help you. I – I can't be your guy in the chair. I can't be your guy in the chair!"

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and tucked his head in further, "Ned, Ned, you're always going to be my guy in the chair! Just knowing that you're still here, taking care of May, that's being my guy in the chair. That's being the _best_ guy in the chair, okay? You're my best friend Ned. I'm going to miss you so much!"

Ned took one more shuddering breath, squeezing Peter so tight he saw stars (not that he was complaining – Ned's hugs were the best and this was the last one he'd get in a while) before letting go. Ned took a moment to run his arm over his eyes, sniffing loudly, throat bobbing. Peter bit his lip as he watched. One more deep breath and then, "Alright, you should probably get going. You've got a long way to go. They're in Canada right now, right? That's what you think? You better get going, hitch a ride on a truck, the whole shebang."

"You never say shebang," Peter commented with a watery smile.

Ned gave him a watery smile back, "And you said you'd never leave me." Peter winced, but he knew that Ned hadn't meant it in a mean way, just in an… honest way.

Huffing out something between a laugh and a sob, Peter darted in for one last hug, barely letting it last a second before pulling away again, "Alright, I'm heading out. You should… you should probably head home. Plausible deniability and all that."

"Yeah. Yeah, I should – go," Ned said.

They stared at each other for a long moment, the note on the table and the backpack slung over Peter's shoulder. In the end, they didn't really say goodbye, didn't really do a traditional parting. They just kind of… went different directions, Ned out the door and Peter out the window. He was going to see Ned again. He was.

For now, he had Steve to find.

Peter broke down less than two hours out of the city.

The crippling feeling of shame and guilt and frustration had welled up his stomach, into his throat. He jumped from the truck he'd been hitching a ride with, swinging down towards the trees and climbing one, curling into the smallest possible ball he could.

Shuddering sobs broke through his control, leaving him shaking against the trunk of the tree. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this! What would May think? What would Mr. Stark think? Ned was already devastated! Steve wouldn't want him to do this, not when it hurt everyone so much, not when it hurt _Peter_ so much.

He… he… he couldn't do this. He couldn't. He – he couldn't. He had to talk to Steve. _Had to_. He – he had to.

Peter started frantically searching through his bags for a pen. There – there wasn't a pen! There wasn't a pen! How was he going to contact Steve? Everything was going wrong. Everything was going wrong. Peter started hyperventilating, hands fumbling so hard with his backpack that he could barely keep the thing on the branch in front of him.

Finally, _finally_ , he found a pen. He tore the cap off, letting it fall to the ground without a thought. He crushed the tip of the pen into his skin, nearly tearing a rough line into the skin of his arm. He wrote, _Steve, Steve please. I did something bad. I – I did something bad. I don't, I don't understand. Steve. Steve, I_

He didn't even get a chance to finish before Steve was already writing back, frantically quick, _Spiderman, slow down! Are you hurt? Are you physically alright?_

Peter nodded before his shoulders hunched, realizing that Steve wouldn't be able to see it. He was dumb, so dumb. Slowly, trying to control his breathing, Peter responded, _I am physically alright._

Steve's response wasn't quite so rushed the second time, _Good, that's good. Now, what did you do? I'm certain it wasn't as bad as you think it was. You tend to convince yourself that things are worse than they are._

 _I ran away_ , Peter admitted in small letters. The pause went on a hint too long, judgement almost seeming to ooze down the bond. Peter felt desperate to add to his statement, to explain, _Not – I didn't run away, run away. I was… I was looking for you. I think I know roughly where you were. I was going to come and join you. I left a note for my family and I got someone to disable all of the monitoring stuff in my suit. I grabbed some stuff and I was going to come find you. But I couldn't. I can't do it. I hate that I can't do it. I want to see you, to be with you. I want to be able to tell you my name so you don't have to keep calling me Spiderman, but I can't. I'm too weak, too dumb. I hate this. I hate this so much!_

He was full-on sobbing again by the time he finished writing, feeling emotionally wrung out. He was such a mess. It was always him sobbing into his shirt, desperately asking Steve for help. So useless.

Steve's response took another four agonizing minutes to form, _You know I love you. You know that. But this isn't the time for us to meet. When we're together again, I won't be a wanted war criminal. And you won't either, alright? We're going to get through this with as few arrest warrants as possible. Your family needs you and, as hard as this is to admit at the moment, Mr. Stark needs you too. Maybe more than I do. Well, no, that's not possible. I know we've both been dealt bad hands in life and this whole thing is just another bad card, but we're strong, stronger than anyone else. You know that – I dropped a truck on you the first time we met. We are strong enough to get through this. We will get through this. I love you, alright? I don't need to know your name to know that. Okay?_

Peter sniffled, writing out immediately, _Okay. I love you too_.

Steve wrote back again, _Now, I need you to go home to your family. Go hug them, alright?_

Peter nodded at his arm again, this time letting out a little snort of laughter when he realized his mistake. He wrote back a quick affirmative before he got himself situated again. He was okay. Steve was okay. It was okay.

He was going to go back and hope that May hadn't read the note by then. He was going to go back and just… just forget that this ever happened.

It took him a little longer to get home, maybe two and a half hours. He was glad for the long ride home. It gave him a little bit of peace, gave him a chance to centre himself.

All that work of centring himself disappeared when he swung back into his room to see Mr. Stark sitting there, back bowed and something white crumpled in his hands. Peter's stomach dropped when he realized it was his note (he also felt a blinding moment of relief when he remembered that he'd never directly named his soulmate or mentioned anything about his soulmate's situation; this relief was followed immediately by guilt at the way he was thinking).

Licking his lips, Peter slowly took off his head piece, walking further into the room. Mr. Stark hadn't noticed him yet. He didn't want to scare him, but… "Mr. Stark?"

Mr. Stark jumped, gauntlet forming around his hand in a split second, aimed at Peter within the next second. Peter's shoulders hunched, but he didn't move, eyes wide. Mr. Stark took him in for a long second, disbelief colouring his face. After a second, he lowered his hand, the gauntlet sinking back into whatever device it'd come out of. Eventually, he croaked, "You're back?"

"I – I'm back. I'm so sorry Mr. Stark! I wasn't thinking! I shouldn't have – shouldn't have done that! I'm sorry!" Peter let out all at once, the words tumbling head over heels over each other.

Mr. Stark got that panicked look on his face he always got when Peter was being especially emotional, "Hey, hey Peter! It's okay! You're okay! I don't blame you. A soulmate is really important, I get that. It's okay. It's, well, it's not okay, not really. Don't you _ever_ do this again, okay? I will help you find your soulmate if you need me to, okay? I will _help you_. Please don't just run off on your own. Don't leave your strangely hot aunt like that, alright? She would have missed you." Mr. Stark gave him a scolding look, trying to hide the panic, trying to hide the slumped look he'd worn earlier. Peter knew what he meant, though, knew that Mr. Stark meant that he didn't want Peter to leave _him_ alone, knew that Mr. Stark missed him.

So, Peter dove into Mr. Stark's side, almost knocking the both of them off the bed and definitely accidentally digging his elbow into Mr. Stark's ribs. Mr. Stark held both hands above Peter's back, eyes wide and body rigid for a long moment before he melted into the hug, pulling Peter close. He put his head against Peter's making small, nonsense comments. They weren't exactly traditional comfort phrases, instead they were little titbits about Mr. Stark's robots, about Happy, about Pepper. They were just comforting reminders about the life Peter had here, the life he almost left behind.

He couldn't do that again. He needed to stay here, to wait until Steve was accepted back into America. He could wait. He could wait.

Peter buried himself further into Mr. Stark's side. He could wait.

 **Author's Note: There we are!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Here's another one! This is based off the prompt by kinkthatwinked. Read, review, and enjoy!**

SSSSSS

Steve blinked awake at the feeling of a pen scratching across his skin, gently forming words across the bottom of his stomach. He stretched up to read it, hissing at the way it pulled at his abused muscles. A day full of training followed by a long night on the hard ground really didn't feel good.

Grunting, Steve pulled himself up and yawned, glancing down at his stomach as the words continued to write themselves. Rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes, Steve started reading. Spiderman had wrote, _Hey Steve! Have you heard of Bon Jovi?_

Steve easily reached over to the little pack of pens he kept at his side and penned back an answer, _No, what is it? A type of food?_

Steve could hear the considering tone in Spiderman's words when he answered, _No, but it does kind of sound like food, doesn't it? It's a band! Or, well, a person. At least, it's a band based off of a person? The band is named after the singer, but there are other people! But! Anyways! They're really good! I bet you've actually heard their song Wanted Dead Or Alive (am I supposed to capitalize the "or"? That confuses me…), but that song's really good. Lay Your Hands On Me is really good too. You should listen to them!_

Chuckling softly, Steve moved over to his little tablet. Luckily, despite being stuck camping on the ground, they were able to get use some sort of hot spot or something to get wifi in this place. Steve hadn't even finished typing "Bon Jovi" when Spiderman was already writing to him, _In hindsight, maybe Wanted Dead or Alive is a little too real for you right now. Maybe you shouldn't listen to that one. But definitely listen to the other one! And the rest! They're really good! Alright, I'll shut up and let you listen now!_

Rolling his eyes, Steve finished typing in the band's name. He looked for the second song Spiderman had mentioned, writing something as the first chords started playing, _Maybe this should be our song, I don't know. It's kind of sweet because we, I don't know, kind of discovered this music together._

Steve finished, pleased with his words. Then he took the moment to really listen to the song. That was… that was quite suggestive. He could feel heat rising to his face, eyes widening. This was not what he wanted to be their song! Not, not when it was that suggestive. Mortification fuelled Steve to grab his pen, ready to scribble out a retraction. Spiderman had beaten him to it, though. He wrote, a hint of laughter bleeding through, _You want this to be our song? Is that some sort of hint?_

 _No! No, it's not a hint! Absolutely not! Never! Or, well, not never, but not now! I mean. I just mean – you're a kid! And, and yeah! You're a kid! You shouldn't, it shouldn't. I'm so sorry!_ Steve finally managed to write, the letters barely holding together any hint of neatness.

Spiderman was definitely laughing at him when he wrote back, _Haha, that's too cute! I know what you mean. Although, at some point in the future, we probably should talk about that kind of stuff. Not right now, though, because you're obviously too embarrassed to be of any use. I'm laughing so hard right now if you can't tell. I'll have to find you more music if this is the way you're always going to react._

 _Brat_ , Steve wrote back fondly, the corners of his lips curling up happily.

When he finally looked away from his arm, Sam was sat up, glaring at him. Steve's brow crinkled, "What?"

Sam sighed, "Your embarrassed flailing woke me up!"

"My what?" Steve squawked.

Sam squinted at him, "You heard me!"

"I was not flailing!" Steve protested.

"You almost cut yourself open with your pen you were trying to write so frantically! And that was after you started playing some Bon Jovi song. What are you even _doing_?" Sam asked, sighing and rubbing at his forehead.

Steve mumbled, "Spiderman had just heard of Bon Jovi and wanted me to hear them too. I, um, said something unintended."

Sam squinted at him again, "You know what, I don't actually care." He rolled back over and went back to sleep.

Steve dropped his face into his hands. What an embarrassing morning.

 **Author's Note: Short one, sorry!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Here's another one! This is based off of Genie's prompt! Read, review, and enjoy!**

 **Warning: There are some homophobic comments in here? Pretty mild, I guess. I don't know. I'm not good at insults? I never quite got the hang of insulting people, haha. I figured I'd warn you anyways!**

PPPPPP

Peter was never quite sure what brought on Flash's meaner days. Flash bullied him a good portion of the time (read: every single time they were in the same room and even sometimes when they weren't), but there were definitely days where he was worse. And there was never any warning. It didn't seem to be anything Peter did. It just seemed to happen magically.

Maybe Flash really did have a trash home life.

Still, that wasn't any excuse for the way he tore into Peter. It wasn't any excuse for the way he terrorized the school and took things away from people who deserved it.

Regardless of the reasons for Flash's worst behaviour (or lack thereof), today was one of his meaner days. Which meant that Peter basically spent most of the day flailing around the school, trying to avoid his worst bully. And he genuinely meant flailing around the school. There would be times he'd see Flash ahead of him in the hallway and he'd run in a little circle in panic before spotting a room or bathroom (or, on one memorable occasion, a janitor's closet he'd gotten stuck in for the next three hours) nearby that he could hide in until he was assured that Flash was gone.

This particular moment on this particular day? No such luck. There were no open classrooms or bathrooms or janitor closets nearby. And besides, Flash had locked onto him like a demented homing missile, so he probably wouldn't have been able to escape even with an escape route. Sometimes Peter thought that his villains should take a page from Flash's book. The teenager was better at catching Peter than the villains were. Then again, Peter probably didn't want that in his life. His villains with the homing sense of Flash? Yeah, no thank you.

Peter was so distracted with his own mental picture that he hadn't even gotten the chance to really mentally brace himself before Flash was there, shoulder checking him into the lockers. Peter felt his shoulders immediately inch up towards his ears, cheeks already a little red. He held back the instinctive urge to apologize.

Sighing, Peter tried to ignore Flash. He was just going to keep walking and get to class and everything was going to be fine. Flash didn't agree with that course of action. He stepped neatly into Peter's path, planting an arm on the lockers right in front of Peter's face. Peter's shoulders inched closer to his ears. He _hated_ this.

Flash gave Peter a sneer, "Hey Penis."

"Hey Flash," Peter muttered, still trying to get through. He really, really didn't want to be stuck here through his lunch period.

Rolling his eyes, Flash crowded a little closer to Peter, forcing him to step back warily, "Heard you're gay, Parker."

Peter's eyes flicked towards Flash before immediately flicking back down to his feet, "Where'd you hear that?" Having a soulmate the same gender as you wasn't necessarily a bad thing or anything like that. There was a little bit of stigma still attached to it, but almost no one actually still believed stuff like that. Being gay on the other hand? Specifically preferring to be in a relationship with someone of the same gender, sometimes to the point that you reject your soulmate if they're not the same gender as you? That held a lot of stigma. Which was dumb. The soulmate system wasn't infallible. It wasn't wrong to want something a little different from others.

Flash rolled his eyes again, "Please, everyone can tell just by looking at you."

Peter looked down at himself, seeing ratty jeans, beat up tennis shoes, and a nerd shirt. He looked at Flash, seeing a black jeans, expensive tennis shoes, and a slightly more obnoxious nerd shirt. When he met Flash's eyes again, he muttered, "The only difference between our outfits is how expensive yours is."

He hadn't really realized he'd spoken until the crowd that had somehow gathered around him gasped. Peter's ears flamed. He really, really hadn't wanted to make this worse by opening his big mouth. Just his luck that he did it anyways. Sometimes, Peter felt like people just needed to glue his mouth shut and be done with it. Letting him speak was obviously a bad life decision and counterproductive to his continued survival.

Flash's eyes, well, flashed before he spat out, "Just because you've got some stuck up, girly prick as a soulmate, you assume you're this cool dude. You're not Parker. You're still useless Penis Parker and you're a piece of trash that will never amount to anything in your life ever. Then again, knowing you, your soulmate's even worse."

By that point, people had already gone running for teachers. Saying things like that were bad enough that people were willing to risk Flash's wrath to stop him.

Still, that did nothing to stop the immediate rage and shame that washed over Peter. Did Flash really just say that? Peter's shoulders uncurled, back straightening and fists clenching. For a brief second, something like regret, like fear swirled through Flash's eyes as he seemed to realize what he said before he straightened too, sneering, "Aw, did I hit a nerve? Penis Parker's ashamed of his lame soulmate!"

Peter punched him.

Luckily, he had enough self-control to make it a _human_ punch, but it was still a good one. No one was going to talk about Steve like that, not while Peter was standing right there. No one was going to insult his soulmate – today or any day. Peter would _fight them_.

Flash hit the ground, less because of the punch (even though it _was_ a good punch) and more because of the shock. Puny Penis Parker had never fought back before. The rest of the student body stilled around them. Distantly, Peter registered the sounds of a teacher's determined steps, maybe the timbre of Principal Morita's voice. It was all distant, though. For right now, all Peter cared about was Flash's insult, Flash's words. He did _not_ get to say things like that.

Still, that distant part of his mind that was focused on the incoming authority figures caused enough of a distraction that he didn't notice it when Flash launched to his feet, throwing his own wild punch. Peter was distracted enough and surprised enough that Flash would even _try_ with teachers _right there_ that he didn't even attempt to block.

Flash seemed to take that as some sort of permission or sign because he started attacking Peter in earnest. Peter's defensiveness kicked in and he started hitting back, punches and kicks wherever he needed to send them, not even caring about the students watching, about the teachers approaching. How _dare_ Flash have said what he said?

It took three teachers and the principal to pull them apart.

Flash started talking immediately, "Parker just up and punched me! The other kids all saw it!"

Principal Morita was, for once, not looking at Peter with disappointment, instead turning a rather terrifying glare onto Flash, "The other kids all saw how you instigated the confrontation as well. They also all heard the inappropriate comments you made about Peter's soulmate. Come to the front office. We'll discuss more there." His voice had gotten short and clipped by the end, jaw clenched. For a second, Peter saw a brief glimpse of Principal Morita's Howling Commando ancestor in the fierce expression.

Then Principal Morita was gone, and the gentle hands of Peter's lit teacher were ushering him towards the front office. Peter felt his cheeks immediately flame at the sight of all the other kids gaping at him. He muttered, mostly to himself, "Do I really look that bad?"

His lit teacher laughed a little, "Well, you've certainly got an impressive array of bruises." Great. That meant that Peter was going to have to get his little makeup kit out and paint bruises on himself for a couple of days so they follow the natural progression of healing. Sometimes, enhanced healing wasn't as helpful as it seemed.

They stopped in the little lobby room right outside of the Principal's office. Peter was made to sit there as Flash was immediately brought into the Principal's office. The secretary gave Peter a little wink and offered him some candy (which he immediately took). This was certainly a different experience than his usual trips to the Principal's office. Normally, the secretary would roll her eyes at him standing there, looking vaguely apologetic. Now though? People, especially adults, were going to be treating him nice for a little bit. Talking about someone else's soulmate – especially saying stuff like what Flash said – was incredibly taboo and considered one of the worst kinds of offences.

For once, Peter wouldn't be the one getting in trouble.

He startled as something brushed against his arm. He looked down at the arm, pulling back his sleeve a little bit to really see what it was. Steve was writing to him. Peter smiled despite himself, lips tugging slightly at a bruise, causing him to wince.

Steve wrote, _I know this is lame, but I just ate sushi for the first time. I'm not sure how to feel about it._ Peter had to squint a little bit to read the writing; Steve had managed to end up writing right where an already dark bruise was forming (Peter had a vague recollection of his arm smacking against the locks on one of the nearby lockers when he'd fought).

Peter tried to find a blank spot not under the shadow of the huge bruise without having to lift his sleeve up further but couldn't quite manage it. Sighing, Peter pushed the sleeve up a little further. He found a spot just above his elbow, _Sushi is great! There are some not so good ones, though. It depends a lot on what kind of sauce you use. Did you have it with wasabi? Wasabi is great!_

There was a pause and then, _Why are you writing on a different part of your arm? There's room under my stuff?_

Peter laughed out loud, blushing when the secretary gave him a knowing glance. Not really thinking, Peter wrote out, _I've got a huge bruise there! I just got into a fight, so it's pretty fresh._

Steve's response was immediate, _Isn't today a school day? Are you skipping school to be a vigilante again?_

 _No! Not this time! It was just a fight in school_ , Peter responded before wincing. That probably didn't make Steve feel _much_ better.

Sure enough, Steve wrote back, _You got into a fight in school?! Why? What happened? Are you alright? I probably should have led with that, huh?_

Peter rolled his eyes, _I'm fine! Just some bruising. Someone just… said something and I punched them, and it devolved from there._

 _You punched them?_ Steve asked incredulously, _Somehow I can't believe that. Will you get in trouble?_

 _Nah, I won't get in trouble. He was saying some pretty awful stuff, so the most I'll get is, like, detention or something and I'm in that often enough… which you didn't need to know. But probably did know. Anyways, yeah, I should be fine_ , Peter responded. He was pretty sure he wouldn't get in trouble. Principal Morita had seemed really mad at Flash, so…

Steve asked, _What did he say that got you to punch him?_

Peter squirmed slightly in his chair. Should he tell Steve? Knowing him, Steve would probably feel guilty even though it definitely wasn't his fault. Still, Peter didn't like lying or omitting stuff, especially not when it was to his soulmate. So, with a grimace, Peter wrote back, _He was saying some stuff about you – awful stuff. Well, it wasn't about you you. It was about soulmate you. He was just insulting my soulmate, who is you. You know what I mean. He was making disparaging comments about my soulmate and I got upset and punched him._

Steve's writing was gentle and soft when he responded, _You didn't have to do that for me._

 _I wanted to_ , Peter wrote back immediately.

There was a definite smile in Steve's writing when he said, _I love you_.

 _Love you too!_ Peter responded warmly, lips curling back up into a smile. He didn't get a chance to say anything else before Principal Morita called him into the office, a warm smile on his face.

At the end of the day, Peter didn't get in trouble at all and Flash ended up with two days in school suspension. It would make Flash's bullying all the more intolerable once he got out, but that was okay. Peter was pretty sure that Flash had learned that he really shouldn't insult Peter's soulmate anymore.

 **Author's Note: Wasabi is not great. In case you read this and decide you want to try Wasabi. I mean, obviously, some of you might like it. I do not enjoy it. I mean, the only time I've eaten it, my friends bet me $20 to eat (in one bite) this golf ball sized chunk of Wasabi and I, like, almost puked and was definitely crying, so… Wasabi is not my friend.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: I don't know where all of this motivation is coming from, but I almost wish it was aimed at studying, haha. This one is based on a mix of Lucy and Mistress Prime's requests! Read, review, and enjoy!**

SSSSSS

From the other room, Steve heard his soulmate's voice, some cute little quip nearly snatched away by the wind. Smiling, Steve moved into the sitting room of this week's hideout, quickly sitting next to Sam on the couch. Spiderman was on the news again, swinging around and around some… thing? Steve wasn't entirely certain what it was that Spiderman was fighting, wasn't even sure how to describe it.

Natasha snorted, "If you ever need Steve in a room, all you need to do is play Spiderman's voice and he comes running in like a lost puppy."

Steve spared a second to give her a scathing glare. That second was all it took, though. There was a horrible crunching noise from the television and Steve looked back just in time to see the building Spiderman had been bodily tossed into come crumbling down around him.

Steve was motionless. He was aware of Sam and Natasha gaping at the screen, eyes wide and shocked. He was aware that this was probably the most emotion he'd ever seen Natasha show. He wasn't really aware of much else. All he could see was the cloud of dust rising around the remains of the building. There were New Yorkers screaming in the background. Even the thing Spiderman had been fighting had stopped, staring at the building in something akin to confusion.

Spiderman wasn't come out.

There was no movement around the building, no web, no breathless quip, no shining suit. No movement.

Steve was breathless. If he was there, he could shift through the rubble, could pull Spiderman out. He could have made sure that Spiderman wasn't thrown into the building in the first place! He could have done something, anything. If he was there right now, Spiderman would already be out of the building. Why wasn't anyone helping him? Why wasn't anyone doing anything?

Spiderman had mentioned that a lot of people were slightly apprehensive about helping him because he was still considered illegal in light of the Sokovia Accords, but still. This was Spiderman's life on the line. Someone had to help him. Please, _please_ someone help him.

When Steve saw who it was who eventually came to help Spiderman, he bristled. He wanted anyone to help. Anyone but _him_. Because it was Stark who flew onto the scene, knocking out the _thing_ with barely a thought before he started tearing through the building, obviously searching for Spiderman. He tore through the rubble like it wouldn't matter that he was obviously trying to help a known criminal. He tore through the rubble like it wouldn't matter that he obviously cared about and personally knew this person who hadn't signed the Accords yet. He tore through the rubble like it was a friend, a teammate who was sitting there instead of a kid he dragged into an international nightmare.

Stark couldn't treat his own teammates with that much respect, couldn't take the time to realize how awful the Accords were, couldn't believe Steve when he said that this world-ending issue was a little more important. And yet, there he was, risking everything to save Steve's soulmate. As if he had the right to touch Steve's soulmate. As if he had the right to pretend to care about Spiderman. He was just going to turn on him in the end, the same way Stark turned on all his friends.

(In the back of his mind, Steve was recoiling at his own thoughts. He never blamed Stark, not entirely, not fully. It was a bad situation. The Accords they'd been given to look over – while not good – weren't as bad as the ones that were actually published. Hydra was everywhere and that wasn't something that Stark could have planned for. It wasn't entirely Stark's fault and Steve knew that. He knew better than to blame him. He knew that Spiderman loved the man and trusted him and enjoyed spending time with him. He _knew_ that. And yet, and yet… here he was, on a couch thousands of miles away unable to do anything to save his soulmate because Stark hadn't listened.)

Stark had managed to get Spiderman out of the rubble. Steve was still numb. There was blood coating Spiderman's uniform, visible even on his red suit, even through the television screen. Steve felt his heart jump into his throat, felt something in him break. Spiderman wasn't moving. He wasn't moving.

Steve didn't know he'd made a sound until Sam's arm was around him, gentle and firm at the same time, "Hey, it's okay. Spiderman's going to be okay. He's strong. You know that."

"He's not moving," Steve said, voice small. He hadn't felt like this in a long time, hadn't felt like this since before the ice.

Sam tugged Steve closer, "You can feel when a soulmate dies, Steve. He's still alive. He's alive. Got that? Alive."

Steve closed his eyes and allowed him to be pulled down into Sam's embrace, Natasha gently shutting the television off behind them. If Spiderman died… Steve didn't know what he would do. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to do anything, ever again. Spiderman was his soulmate. Steve _loved_ him. He wouldn't be able to handle it if Spiderman died.

Steve didn't really move for the next few hours, stuck on that couch, one hand constantly pressed against his soulmark as if that would keep Spiderman here, alive. Eventually, Sam left and came back again, pressing a pen into Steve's hand, "If you want to try to contact him. He might still be sleeping off that hit, though."

Nodding, Steve took the pen mechanically. He should do that. Right. He was going to do that. He was going to talk to Spiderman and Spiderman was going to give him a little message in the next couple hours because Spiderman was still alive, and he was _okay_.

Steve wrote, _Hey, I saw that hit you took on the news. How are you doing?_

There was no response.

Steve waited.

A few hours passed and there was no response.

The rest of the night passed and there was no response.

The day passed and there was no response.

The same for the next day. And the next. And the one after that. By the fourth day, Steve was starting to lose hope. Was it possible for the soul mark to make a mistake? Was it possible that Spiderman was dead, and the soul mark didn't register it? Soul marks did strange things sometimes, reacted late or slow. There wasn't really a lot of information on soul marks. It was hard to study them because no creature other than humans had soul marks and, well, human experimentation wasn't exactly looked at favourably.

Steve hadn't… hadn't quite given up. But he wasn't quite… wasn't quite hoping anymore. It hurt too much.

The news had nothing to say about Spiderman. No sightings, no comments. Even the military and the Sokovia Accords Legal Enforcers hadn't been saying anything on their channels either. Nothing. From anyone. No one had seen Stark either, which Steve wasn't sure what to feel about. On the one hand, he could be staying by Spiderman's side, watching him while he's healing (even though that should be Steve sitting there, holding Spiderman's hand, praying he'd wake up, whispering comforting words the entire time). On the other hand, Stark could be mourning Spiderman's death, alone in the Avengers compound (Steve wondered if his things were still there, if anyone had gone in his room while he'd been gone; had Spiderman gone in there, trying to feel closer to Steve?).

Sam came into the living room hesitantly, a plate of food held in his hands, "You missed dinner, man." He glanced at the TV, still playing the New York news that he'd had on non-stop since the first day without contact went by.

Steve shrugged, eyes locked on the screen, not really seeing. Voice just a little sadder, Sam asked, "Still no word?" Steve shook his head, wordless. Sam frowned, "Have you tried writing him again?" Steve shook his head. Biting his lip, Sam prodded, "You should try to write him. You can't know if you don't try."

"He's not going to respond. He's dead. Otherwise he would have contacted me," Steve croaked.

Sam winced, "Please Steve. For your own sake, for our sake's, for _Spiderman's_ , please write to him."

Steve shook his head, "I don't want to know if it's bad."

"But what if it's good? Come on, man. _Please_. It'll be worth it, knowing," Sam plead.

Shutting his eyes, Steve mechanically grabbed a pen, immediately moving to a blank spot instinctively, _Hey Spiderman, are you alright?_

He was already putting the pen down, determined that he wasn't going to be getting a response when he felt something, just below his own message. It was the scratch of a pen against his arm. His eyes widened, pen sent flying when he frantically went to look back down at his arm. Sam grabbed the pen quickly, holding it out, eyes wide. Steve looked down at the words newly scrawled over his arm, _Hey! I'm okay! Sorry, I hadn't gotten a chance to talk to you the past couple of days. I've been healing and there were people around who would probably recognize your handwriting, and I didn't want to get caught! Sorry! I'm okay, though! I love you!_

Steve practically ripped the pen out of Sam's hand, frantically writing back, _It's fine! I'm just so glad you're alright! Are you sure that you're alright?_

 _Definitely alright! Well, I mean, I was pretty beat up. And, like, there were a couple of broken bones and all that. But I'm better now! Because I heal superfast, you know? It's all good! Again, so, so, so sorry that I didn't contact you earlier! I must have worried you so much :'(_ Peter wrote back quickly.

Steve was quick to assure him, _It's fine! I completely understand! I'm just glad that you… that you survived._ Steve could feel his eyes burning, water welling in them. Spiderman was alright. He was alright.

Sam put a comforting hand on Steve's back, rubbing soothingly as the tears welled over, Steve's breath hitching. Spiderman was alive. He was alive. Steve started crying in earnest, clutching his arm, clutching the proof that his soulmate was still alive, was still there for him.

Spiderman wrote another line, _So, how are you doing? I hate not having talked to you for so long. What have I missed?_

And Steve wrote back, tears still falling, happiness still welling in his heart. Spiderman was just still so chipper, still so bright. He was alright. He was alright.

 **Author's Note: There we go! Thanks for reading! Five more chapters of prompt-fills and then two chapters that I'll post after I watch Endgame.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Here's another one! This is based off of the first of TheRavenSaidNeverMore's prompts and Gabbalishious-429's prompt. Read, review, and enjoy!**

 **WARNING: There are some vaguely homophobic things in this chapter too, just a warning!**

PPPPPP

Peter tried to avoid giving an obvious reaction when some of the kids sitting by him said his soulmate's name. Ned gave him a look that said he failed miserably. MJ was studiously feigning ignorance while probably drawing Peter's weird reaction. Sometimes, Peter was pretty sure that MJ was psychic. The way she looked up and smirked at him immediately after he thought that only furthered his opinion on the subject.

Anyways, there were kids. Discussing his soulmate. He couldn't help but unobtrusively listen in.

Trey rolled his eyes, "Captain America is definitely straight."

Peter immediately felt his shoulders tighten around his ears. Soulmates made it so people didn't really care if you were with a guy or a girl, but sexual orientation still mattered. It was dumb. But, apparently, if you romantically (not necessarily platonically) rejected a soulmate because you were gay and they weren't the same gender, then you were some sort of perverse monster. It was dumb. Then again, people often were dumb.

Tammy huffed, "What proof do you have about that?"

"Two words: Peggy Carter. Everyone knows that Captain America had the hots for her," Trey argued.

Josh hopped in, "Are you kidding? Everyone knows she was his beard. Captain America had the hots for Bucky Barnes."

By this point, Peter's head had almost disappeared between his shoulders. Ned was sending increasingly worried looks between Peter and the group of students. Even MJ looked vaguely alarmed, pencil no longer scratching at the paper. Peter wanted to melt into his chair and disappear. The other students kept talking.

"There's no way Captain America is gay," Trey fought.

"Why not?" Tammy asked, eyes blazing, food set down on the table in anticipation of the argument. By now, several other tables had started to peek at them, listening in on the argument. Ned looked like he wanted to start talking to Peter about something else, _anything_ else, but was stressed enough that he couldn't come up with a good conversation starter.

Trey rolled his eyes again, "He's Captain _America_. All the comics say that the serum makes the good stuff great and the bad stuff worse. That's why Red Skull was such a douche. Basically, everything is amplified. If he was gay, then he was going to act _super gay_ when he got the serum. He was way too macho to actually be gay."

"Seriously?" Ellie scoffed, "That's so rude. Not all gay guys are visibly gay. Besides, all of you are missing a very obvious point in this conversation: what if he's bisexual?"

"Bisexuals don't exist," Josh threw back immediately.

Tammy snorted as Ellie rounded on him, "They don't exist? Are you serious? How dumb are you?"

Trey raised his eyebrows, "Even I know that being bisexual is a real thing."

Josh shook his head, "It just doesn't make sense."

"You're an idiot," Ellie told him primly, "And, back to the original topic, Captain America is one hundred percent bisexual because he obviously had the hots for Peggy Carter _and_ Bucky Barnes."

Someone slightly behind the group sighed, "I wish someone knew who his soulmate was and what kind of relationship they had. That'd answer all of our problems."

"I heard that his soulmate never wrote back to him, no matter how many times he wrote to them," George shrugged. The whole crowd murmured to each other in understanding. It was very uncommon for a soulmate to _not_ write back to their soulmate, but it did happen. Some people just didn't want any part in the whole soulmate situation.

Peter waited until someone muttered, "Why are we even talking about him anymore? He's a war criminal," to stand up, giving the excuse of the bathroom to leave Ned and MJ sitting at the table.

He sped up, practically bounding through the halls, working his way towards the bathroom. He threw himself into a stall and had to try his hardest to not throw up.

Ever since he was little, he'd known that people insulting the ones he loved would get him from zero to a hundred faster than anything. Insulting him? Yeah, it hurt, but that was it. It just hurt him. Insulting the people he loved? It hurt _and_ made him angry. But after his uncle died? After he became Spiderman? He just didn't have the same energy for anger anymore. Insults towards the people he loved made him feel sick, made him stress. Especially when they were insults about how everyone left Peter.

That wasn't necessarily what the comments about Steve were, but they gave Peter the same sick feeling. What if Steve was _straight_? What if he didn't want to be with Peter romantically?

Peter shook his head; that was dumb. Steve was the one who talked about having kids together and getting pets. He was the one who first asked what Peter's perfect date looked like. That wasn't someone who only wanted Peter as a platonic friend. Right? Or had Peter been reading too much into it.

Had Steve ever really said anything about having kids _together_? Or just having kids in general? What if Peter had been acting under the completely wrong assumption this entire time?

Frantically, Peter scanned over the conversation. _Peter_ had mentioned being great adoptive parents together someday, but Steve hadn't said a thing. No, no, no! He'd had it wrong this entire time, hadn't he? And Steve hadn't known how to put him down gently. No, no, _no_.

Peter pulled himself together, closing his eyes and focusing, fingers rubbing gently against his soulmark, that old, comforting feeling of holding hands with Steve (did Steve even want that? Would he even be willing to hold Peter's hand when they finally met) washing over him, grounding him. He was getting himself worked up. Yes, platonic friends would sometimes tell each other that they loved each other and would complement each other's appearance, but it wasn't like that with him and Steve. He had plenty of empirical data proving that scrawled all over his skin. He was alright. It was alright. They were alright.

He took another deep breath, resisting the urge to cry. He was being ridiculous. It didn't matter what sexual orientation Steve was. They were together and they loved each other and that was all that mattered.

Still, Peter thought to himself, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to go ahead and ask Steve later that night.

Throughout the day, the thought drifted away, drawn from him by the drudgery of classes and Flash's mocking comments. It would simmer under his skin for a while, but wouldn't really come back to mind until a similar situation occurred (which, hopefully, it wouldn't).

Except, he was Peter Parker, so of course a situation that would bring the question (and even more doubts) straight to the forefront of his mind happened that same afternoon.

Peter went to the compound right after school. He always went to Mr. Stark's on this day of the week, but he'd be going a little early that day since school was cancelled early after someone found some potentially debilitating mould under some of the bleachers. Peter wasn't super concerned about it since he was 90% convinced that someone put it there on purpose to get school cancelled for a couple days, but he also wasn't completely convinced. Maybe he should ask Mr. Stark to get someone to check him out at the compound. Could he get sick from mould with his powers? That was another question he should get answered.

Peter jerked in surprise when Happy gruffly announced, "We're here."

"Oh, thanks Happy!" Peter replied, grinning sunnily at the man before leaving the car. Happy rolled his eyes, but Peter was pretty sure there was genuine amusement somewhere in there. Pretty sure.

Apparently Mr. Stark hadn't known that Peter was coming early, though, since he wasn't in the lab when Peter got there. Peter hovered outside the door indecisively. Should he go in and wait for Mr. Stark in there, or should he go try to find Mr. Stark? He remembered Mr. Stark saying something about what Peter was supposed to do if he got there and Mr. Stark wasn't there, but he'd been a little too busy geeking over the lab to fully listen to what Mr. Stark was saying.

Scratching at his neck, Peter sighed. Maybe he'd just go to the kitchen first and grab a snack there. Mr. Stark always said that he was welcome to grab a snack from the kitchen at any time. Hopefully Mr. Stark would be back by the time that Peter was done with his snack.

Peter headed off towards the kitchen, idly listening through the compound for any sign of Mr. Stark. Unfortunately, a lot of the area was soundproof to avoid annoyances between the different people staying there, so even Peter's hearing couldn't do that well.

That was why he was almost on top of the kitchen before he heard Mr. Stark and Pepper fighting in the kitchen. He winced a little bit, already starting to turn around, but then he heard his name.

It was Mr. Stark who said it, "I'm not an idiot! I know Peter was lying to me!"

Peter blinked, startled. He frantically parsed through his memories, trying to remember when he'd lied to Mr. Stark recently. Has he ever really lied to Mr. Stark? Well, he wasn't telling Mr. Stark about his connection with Steve, but that wasn't… oh. _Oh_. The conversation where Mr. Stark saw the handwriting on Peter's skin. That must be what Mr. Stark was talking about. A strange numbness swept through Peter, fear, guilt, stress, heartbreak all warring for dominance and leaving nothing but an empty husk behind.

Pepper sighed, obviously aggravated, "Tony, the kid worships you. Do you really believe he'd look you straight in the eyes and lie to you? That doesn't sound like something that he would do." The guilt made a reappearance, blocking out the other feelings. Peter resisted the urge to squirm. How could he have lied straight to Mr. Stark's face like that? His chest ached with the thought of it. But how would Mr. Stark have reacted if Peter had said something different? If he'd told him that his soulmate _was_ Captain America?

Mr. Stark ran a hand through his hair, the sound swishing over to where Peter was standing, feeling even more guilt for eavesdropping, but still needing to know, "You weren't there, Pep! He was lying to me. He flat out lied to me."

"Okay, so what?" Pepper asked.

The laugh Mr. Stark gave in response was cold and harsh, "Are you serious? His soulmate is Captain America! An international war criminal! His little assassin buddy killed my parents!"

Pepper's voice was equally cold when she shot back, "Peter doesn't have an ounce of control in that, Tony. You know that."

"It doesn't matter if he had control in who his soulmate was! It matters that he's obviously been contacting Rogers enough to feel like he needed to lie to me about it!" Mr. Stark argued, stress leaking into his tone. Peter tried not to flinch at the venomous tone Mr. Stark used when saying Steve's name.

Settling down in a chair, Pepper sighed, "Can you blame him? It's his _soulmate_ , Tony. That's not a little thing. He's bound to be confused. The very universe wants them to be together. I think it says something that he's still here with you instead of off with Captain America. Don't you?" Peter felt tears building behind his eyes, desperately waiting for Mr. Stark's answer.

Mr. Stark sighed, running his hand through his hair again, "Peter can't be with Rogers."

"Excuse me?" Pepper asked sharply.

"It's not fair to the kid," Mr. Stark said, voice trailing off weakly. Peter could only imagine the glare Pepper was aiming at him. Mr. Stark kept going, "It isn't! Rogers is manipulating him! Think about it, Pep. Peter's just a kid trying to play a big boy's game. He's easily star struck, even by international war criminals. And Rogers is a whole heck of a lot older than Peter. There's a reason that underage relationships are illegal!"

Pepper interrupted quickly, " _Sexual_ underage relationships, Tony. _Sexual_." Peter's ears flamed.

Mr. Stark talked over her easily, "There's still an aspect of power dynamics there. Rogers can talk pretty much anyone into doing anything. Do you know how easily he'd be able to use the soul bond, his reputation, and his age to manipulate Peter into giving him information about us, about Peter, about other things. The amount of classified information that Peter could get through the soul bond is devastating."

Pepper interrupted again, this time more forcefully, making Mr. Stark stop (thankfully making him stop because Peter wasn't sure if he could hear more of that, if he could stand to listen to Mr. Stark talk about how his soulmate must have manipulated him), "I'm sorry, are you saying that you have a problem with this relationship because there's an age gap and you're worried that Peter is going to betray you?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all!" Mr. Stark said, a desperate cringe in his voice.

Pepper's voice cut through his argument, "No. I'm going to talk for a little bit. You are not allowed to talk until I finish talking, alright? Nod if you understand. Good. Peter Parker is a _good kid_ and he _loves you to pieces_. He would _never_ betray you, even to his soulmate. Like I said earlier, he thinks the world of you and would never do anything that could hurt you, alright? And before you try to interrupt and say that he might be manipulated into doing something, I'm going to have to disagree. Peter is a _smart kid_. You know that, I know that. Everyone knows that Peter is smart. He's a little awkward sometimes and doesn't always get social cues, but he would be able to see if someone was trying to manipulate someone. You were the one who told me the other day that he's quick to love someone, but not so quick to trust them. I know he trusts you. I can tell. He might trust Steve Rogers, too, but that's irrelevant. The fact is that he trusts you and he knows when you don't want information out. He is going to keep information a secret.

"Now, since we've got the fact that he's not going to betray you all squared away, let's move onto the other point. Yes, relationships with age gaps can sometimes be due to manipulation by one or the other. Yes, sometimes they are nothing but creepy. But not always. Some people just genuinely love each other and that's that. _Especially_ when it's because of a soulmate situation. Peter and Captain America were _made for each other_. The universe decided that they were the perfect pair. Age has nothing to do with that, alright? I will not hear you say that age is a reason they shouldn't be together, is that understood?" Pepper finished, vaguely out of breath.

Mr. Stark took a long second to respond. Eventually, he sighed, "I'm just trying to keep him safe, Pep. I don't trust this relationship. I can't trust that Rogers isn't manipulating him. Not after everything. I just can't."

Peter silently took in gulps of air, tears filling his eyes again. He squeezed them shut. Manipulated? Was it possible that he was being manipulated? The conversation between those kids at lunch came back to him, reminding him of his earlier fears and doubts. What if Steve was firmly straight and wasn't actually interested in Peter? What if he was just being manipulated? How much of this so-called relationship came from true love and how much came from Peter being star-struck like Mr. Stark said?

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear Happy enter the kitchen and ask why Mr. Stark wasn't with Peter. He didn't hear Mr. Stark scrub a hand over his face before standing and walking towards the exit. He didn't hear all three of them step out into the corridor. He didn't notice their presence until they were already rounding the corner and all he could do was stare at them, wide-eyed and red faced, tear tracks still blatantly visible on his face.

Mr. Stark's face went pale immediately, obviously recognizing that Peter had heard the whole conversation. Happy looked mainly confused, but Pepper's face turned from tragic understanding to comforting in a split second, a hand raised out towards Peter like he was a wild animal, "Peter, come here, sweetie. We should talk about this."

Peter… Peter couldn't. He couldn't do this. He couldn't have this conversation now. His mind was in turmoil from all the conversations he'd overheard today, his heart was in turmoil over the doubts filling his head. He couldn't talk to them about it.

Swallowing, Peter shook his head. Pepper's face crumpled, but she tried one more time, "It's okay, Peter, really. Let's just talk about this." Mr. Stark was still white-faced behind her, Happy's expression quickly darkening.

Peter shook his head one more time before he was off, racing through the hallways. He could vaguely hear Pepper take a few running steps towards him, could hear Happy shouting, "What did you do to him?" None of it mattered. All that mattered was that he needed to get out. Needed to not be inside. The walls were caving in on him and he could feel his breath stuttering in his throat.

He used his webs (hidden under his sleeves most days) to swing around corners faster, finally finding an open window. He _flew_ past a startled Rhodes, leaping out the window and launching a web at the adjacent building, swinging around it and latching to the walls. He backflipped off that building, landing on the building next to it. He steadily climbed that one, only really feeling the panic start fade as he curled himself into a tiny ball in one corner of the building.

This wasn't the tallest building on the compound, which sucked, but the tallest building was the one that Mr. Stark was currently in and Peter just… couldn't be there.

Peter tried to focus on his breathing to calm the rest of the way down, tried to focus on nothing but good thoughts. The conversations wouldn't leave his head, though. They just wouldn't leave, and Peter couldn't make them. Steve always said to go to him when he was feeling like this, but… could he? Could he really go to Steve?

This was dumb. Steve loved Peter and Peter loved Steve. That was that. That was all that mattered. All these other conversations were dumb. They didn't know anything about the situation and were jumping to conclusions. But… some of what they said actually made a little bit of sense. Peter shook his head, trying to shake away the thoughts.

It didn't work.

Desperation (to be proven wrong, to be prove right, to just get these thoughts _out of his head_ ) forced Peter to pull a pen out of the backpack he still had slung over his shoulders, pushing his sleeve up to write on his arm, _Hey, Steve. Can I talk to you about something?_

 _Sure thing, buddy. What's up?_ Steve wrote back instantly. Peter couldn't help the small lick of warmth that stuttered to life inside of him at the instant response.

He wrote back carefully, _So, um, I don't know how to ask this, so I'm just going to go ahead and ask it straight out: have you ever, um, been with anyone before?_

There was a small but noticeable pause before Steve answered, _I have not had sex with anyone if that's what you're asking. Peggy and I were, well, courting I guess during the war, but it never really got past loving each other and one kiss, right at the end. Why do you ask?_

Peter felt his heart stutter to a stop in his chest. Steve had been with Peggy. He'd _been with her_. Peter didn't know what to do, what to write, what to say. How do you accuse your soulmate of manipulating you? What if he was wrong? What if he was right? Did he really even want to know?

Hesitantly, Peter wrote out slowly, _Have you ever dated a guy? Was there… was there ever anything between you and Bucky?_

Steve's response came even later that time, _I'm honestly not sure if there was something between Bucky and me. I think there was always some level of attraction, but it was the '40s. We wouldn't really have been accepted. Even thinking about something like that was frowned upon. We never really did anything about it or acknowledged it. And then there was Peggy and nothing really happened. Why are you asking, Spiderman?_

Peter didn't answer Steve's question, instead asking back, _This is really blunt again, but what is your sexual orientation?_

It took Steve almost three minutes to respond, making Peter tense up, his jaw clenched so tight that it started to ache. Steve finally answered, _I haven't really given it much thought. It wasn't really a thing before the ice and I was a little too busy trying to adjust after the ice to really look into it. And then I met you and it didn't really matter. What's going on?_

 _It doesn't matter?_ Peter asked back, _What do you mean it doesn't matter? It matters because I'm a guy and you're a guy._

Steve's answer was immediate this time, _I get that, I do, but I already told you that I had been interested in Bucky once upon a time, so you know that I'm open to the idea of a relationship between two guys. Spidey, where is all of this coming from? You know I love you, right?_

 _But how do I know it's romantically? You've never been with a guy, so how do you know? Or is this all just platonic?_ Peter wrote back frantically.

There was another small pause in Steve's answer, _You're confusing me. Spidey, I love you. I love you so much. I had been under the impression that we were in a romantic relationship. Maybe we should have had a conversation like this earlier. Maybe I should have been more explicit. I'm sorry if I caused you any sort of stress. How about we talk about it in a little bit? For now, how about you tell me what's got you so stressed out in the first place?_

Peter's hands flexed around the pen for a moment before he answered, _I don't know! I don't know. It was just some things that some kids at school said. Some things that Mr. Stark said too. I don't know. I just…_ He trailed off.

After Steve realized that Peter wasn't going to say anything else, he wrote, _What did Stark say?_

 _It doesn't matter,_ Peter tried to deflect.

Steve didn't let it go, _It's obviously bothering you. What'd he say?_

Peter's shoulders slumped, _He said that you were manipulating me. That you were using your older age and position as one of my heroes to manipulate me._

There was a tense silence, no words written for a long moment. When Steve finally did write back, the letters were curt and sharp, a clear sign that Steve was angry, _Unbelievable. Spiderman, I don't know how to convince you that I am not manipulating you. All I can say is that I love you with every part of my heart, with every inch of my being. I want to be with you until my dying days and then I want to be with you afterwards too. I want to be with you because I fell for you harder than I ever could fall for anyone else. I fell for your charm and your adorable rambles and your beautiful mind. I love you and that will never stop. If I need to back off a little to convince you that I'm not trying to manipulate you into anything, please just tell me. I'll do anything to show you that I'm not, not using you._

Peter's eyes filled with tears at the righteous anger in Steve's words. He wrote blearily, _I believe you. I believe you, Steve. I'm so, so, so sorry for doubting you. I'm so sorry._

 _You don't need to apologize,_ Steve immediately commented, _Really. I understand that it can be hard when people you know are saying things like that. I'm glad that you came to me about this, that you thought to talk to me instead of letting it stew. That shows trust. So, thank you._

 _You're perfect and I love you_ , Peter wrote back, panic finally soothed down into something manageable.

Steve responded immediately, _You're even more perfect and I love you even more_.

Peter snorted, _Not possible._

 _Just wait, you'll see,_ Steve wrote back before hesitantly asking, _Do you want to have that conversation about our relationship now or later? We do obviously need to have one, though. We really should have done this earlier. Putting down boundaries and making things very clear is a very important part of a relationship._

Peter sighed, _I don't think I can do that right now. Later tonight, maybe six hours from now? Would that work for you? I don't know what time zone you're in._

 _That's perfect for me. I'll talk to you then, alright? Love you,_ Steve wrote back. Peter felt that warmth curl inside him.

 _Love you too_ , he sent back.

He plunked his head against the wall behind him, dropping the pen back into his backpack and pulling his sleeve down.

He was sitting there like that, one arm over his eyes and the other draped over his knees, when Mr. Stark flew up to the top of the building. He slowly landed on the roof, suit contracting around him.

Mr. Stark cleared his throat, "Hey kid, can I sit with you?"

Peter didn't trust his voice, so all he did in response was nod. That seemed to be good enough for Mr. Stark because he instantly moved over to Peter's side, sitting down next to him and leaning back against the wall.

After a lengthy pause, Mr. Stark said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Peter asked roughly, "Saying those things or getting caught?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mr. Stark flinch, but the man managed to keep most of the hurt out of his voice when he responded evenly, "Both. You have to know that I trust you, kid. Because I do. I trust you. I wouldn't do the things I do with you if I didn't. I know that you would never purposefully give information away. And I know that you're smart enough to not let someone run you over in a relationship." When Peter didn't answer, Mr. Stark cleared his throat and tipped his head towards Peter's arm, "Did you talk to him about it?"

The words came out of Peter's mouth without any sort of thought, without a conscious recognition of what he was saying, "How do you know my soulmate is a guy?" He froze the second the words left his mouth, remembering the first part of that conversation he'd overheard. Mr. Stark had been mad because he'd been lying to him. Here he was, lying again.

Mr. Stark had frozen as well, body going stiff next to Peter's. His voice was slightly choked when he said, "I think we both know how I know that."

Peter closed his eyes, hands shaking. He couldn't say anything, couldn't even think past the moment of blaring panic in his mind. One of Mr. Stark's hands carefully dropped over one of Peter's, slowing the trembling. Mr. Stark cleared his throat, "I shouldn't have asked you who he was. Not when I already knew. I put you in an awful position and I shouldn't have done that. You don't have to say anything, and we can pretend from now on that I don't know who your soulmate is. And… for what it's worth… I'm sorry you're in this position in the first place. You shouldn't have to deal with this."

Peter still didn't say anything, but he twisted his hand a little bit to grasp around Mr. Stark's wrist, holding it there as some sort of comfort. He wasn't sure if he was comforting himself or Mr. Stark. Probably both. They both needed it.

After another long moment of silence, Mr. Stark nudged him slightly, "I'm going to need you to say something, buddy. Just to prove that you're still alive somewhere in there, yeah?"

Taking in a shaky breath, Peter asked quietly, "How mad are Happy and Pepper?"

Mr. Stark snorted, relief evident in the way his body loosened, "Furious. Not at you, though, just at me. I think Happy is already plotting excuses to tell your unreasonably attractive aunt about what I did so she can eviscerate me, and Pep is definitely making some sort of food for you as we speak."

Peter peaked past the arm still draped over his eyes, "Food?"

Shaking his head, Mr. Stark started to get up, offering his hand to Peter when he was finally standing, "Should have known that's what would get you to come out of your shell. That's what I should have started with honestly." He dragged Peter to his feet, pausing for a second once Peter was standing, "Are we… are we good?"

Peter looked at him, saw the way Mr. Stark's shoulders were slumped forward, saw how tired he was. So, without saying anything, Peter nodded and darted in for a hug, taking a second to just make the hug last before darting away, down the stairs. Yeah, they were good.

 **Author's Note: I don't know where all of those words came from, honestly. I guess I had just been holding all of that in during finals and the mental recovery period and it all just kinda… spilled out afterwards. Maybe because I finally watched Endgame and got all the feels for this pairing again (although, I'm going to have to do some fancy manoeuvring to write those last two chapters, yikes). Thanks for reading!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Here's the next chapter! This is based off of Radio Rascal's request! Read, review, and enjoy!**

SSSSSS

Steve hadn't remembered it was Halloween until Spiderman excitedly wrote, _There were three people at school dressed up as Captain America for Halloween today! I mean, they all got detention and had to change, which is dumb, but whatever. Honestly, I don't know why they don't let us dress up as you, but they make us watch your PSAs and that's probably worse than dressing up as you for Halloween._

Idly Steve started writing a response before paused. They made the students watch _what_? Clearing his throat, Steve changed what he was planning on writing, _They make you watch my what?_

 _Your PSAs? The things where you lecture us about things like detention and puberty and gym class? No offense, but those things get real old real fast_ , Spiderman responded easily.

All Steve could do was blink at the writing, eyes wide. They made the students watch those? They were still showing those? He'd made them in the 1940s! The 1940s! And he was an international war criminal! What?! Regaining slight control of himself, he managed to rush out, _I hadn't realized they were still showing those._

There was a pause before Spiderman wrote again, something delighted in the angle of his letters, _Are you embarrassed? You're embarrassed, aren't you? Haha, that's so cute!_

 _Those things are so lame_ , Steve finally gave up and lamented. He wondered what Spiderman's laugh actually sounded like. Maybe, when they met, he'd bring up the PSAs again just to make him laugh.

 _They're cute_ , Spiderman insisted, _Really! Just, the detention one is extra boring. Maybe it's because I've heard it so many times._

 _Why are you ending up in detention so often?_ Steve asked, eyebrow raised. Embarrassment was still stewing in the back of his mind, but he'd ignore it for the moment on this matter.

Spiderman quickly deflected, _Just superhero stuff, you know? Anyways, guess who I'm dressed up as for Halloween?_

 _Please don't tell me it's me,_ Steve sighed, shaking his head at the deflection, but still playing along. He was kind of curious.

He could hear the laughter in Spiderman's words when he answered, _Haha, no, but I was tempted! There was a definite moment where I considered it! I also considered dressing as Spiderman because, you know, irony, but I figured that would just be inviting trouble and I get into enough trouble accidentally that I didn't need to purposefully get into trouble. So, I finally decided on… the Doctor! The 11_ _th_ _one! He's the best. Well, my aunt disagrees with me, but I think he's the best. She likes the 9_ _th_ _one. My best friend likes the 10_ _th_ _one. Weirdos. But I'm dressed as the 11_ _th_ _Doctor!_

Steve stared at the words, willing them to make sense. He recognized that Spiderman was very excited about this, but… he had zero clue who the 11th Doctor was. Desperately, he turned to Wanda, "If someone said they dressed up as the 11th Doctor, would you know what that meant?"

She stared at him blankly, "I have no clue what that means. It must be some American thing."

From off to the side, Natasha sighed. Sam gave her a commiserating glance before turning back to Steve and Wanda, "It's not really. I mean, it's popular in America, but it's a British thing first and foremost. The 11th Doctor is from the show Doctor Who. It's pretty good."

"Oh," Steve said, mentally adding the show to his checklist of things to watch before meeting Spiderman, "Why is the 11th better than the 9th and 10th? Are there more?"

Natasha gave him a pitying look, but Sam was obviously gearing himself up for something, "Never say those words in my presence again! There is no greater Doctor than the 4th and I will fight someone on that. He thought that the eleventh was the best. Shameful. The 11th could conceivably be better than the 9th and 10th, but not by much. You can't beat out the 4th Doctor's classic Doctor Who episodes."

Steve and Wanda were staring at him blankly, but by this time Natasha had worked herself up to, "Are you serious? Classic Doctor Who is complete trash." Sam made to interrupt her, but Natasha put up a hand and gave him a withering glare, "No, you're wrong. So is Spiderman. The 10th Doctor is the best and I will not accept any opinion other than that one because that's the correct opinion."

"Oh no. Nuh uh. I let you get away with a lot because I'm a little scared of you, but I'm not letting this go. Take back what you said about classic Doctor Who," Sam narrowed his eyes, fist stuck out threatening. Natasha gave him a glare back that was twenty times more terrifying. Wanda was watching the argument avidly.

Steve decided to ignore them, instead writing back, _Sorry it took so long to respond. I'll admit that I had to ask the others what all this doctor stuff meant. I'm afraid I started a fight. One person thinks that the 4_ _th_ _Doctor is the best while another person thinks that the 10_ _th_ _Doctor is the best. I don't really know what most of this means, but I have gathered that I should watch Doctor Who at some point._

 _You've never seen Doctor Who?! That one you have to save for when we meet up! We'll watch it together! That's a good show to watch with friends. We'll probably watch the modern Doctor Who first and then watch the classic stuff afterwards. The classic stuff isn't the best quality. I mean, it's good and can make things a little clearer, but it still honestly makes sense to just go ahead and start with the modern stuff,_ Spiderman answered in one big block.

Steve gave the words an indulgent smile, _I'm honestly not sure what you're talking about, but I'm sure I'll find out when we watch it together._

 _Yay! Looking forward to it. Alright, I've got to get to class. Oh, wait! I had a question for you! Are you celebrating Halloween? If you are, what are you dressed as? If you aren't, what would you dress as if were?_ Spiderman shot out quickly.

Steve's eyes widened in alarm. Questions like this always made him panic vaguely. He wrote out, _Uh, give me a little bit to think about this. I'll get back to you asap, alright? Have fun in class!_

 _Okie dokie! Love you Steve!_ Spiderman responded easily.

Shaking his head, Steve wrote back, _Love you too_. He added a little heart next to it for good measure. Now, to answer Spiderman's question.

What would he dress up as? He'd never really gone trick or treating before. They didn't really have money to spend on costumes, even homemade ones and a lot of the time he'd been too sick to go out trick or treating anyways. He remembered Bucky going out a couple of times, but even Bucky couldn't go out very often.

Thinking about it, Steve smirked, _You know what? I'd probably go out as Spiderman. I don't have to worry about the same kinds of things that you do in that situation._

 _You don't have the lean figure to pull off my suit,_ Spiderman answered immediately.

Steve threw his head back and laughed, ignoring the bemused looks of his teammates with the ease of long practice, _Is that so?_

 _Absolutely. You are much too muscular_ , Spiderman responded.

 _Are you saying I'm too muscular for you?_ Steve teased.

 _Absolutely not. I definitely appreciate the muscles. You just can't pull off the same things as I can (even though I'm just as strong as you – I don't need the massive muscles)_ , Spiderman said.

Lips quirking up, Steve wrote, _I think I'm detecting some jealousy._

 _Over your muscles? No way, man_ , Spiderman threw back.

Shaking his head fondly, Steve brushed his fingers over the words, _Ah, I see. This is just sadness that you don't fill out spandex the same way I do._

 _I guarantee you I have an easier time getting out of the spandex, though,_ Spiderman argued.

Tilting his head in consideration, Steve commented, _That's probably true. Alright, you get to class, alright?_

 _Aye, aye, Captain!_ Spiderman responded.

Steve loved him so much.

 **Author's Note: There you go! A lot shorter than the last one, but I hope you still liked it! Thanks for reading!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: This is another prompt from Radio Rascal! Read, review, and enjoy!**

PPPPPP

Peter poked idly at the macaroni and cheese on his plate. May really, really, really hadn't wanted to leave him for Thanksgiving, but she'd finally gotten a job at the hospital and the newbies got stuck on the worst shifts and she'd had to spend most of the morning sleeping so she could go to work all night. Peter, having finished most of his homework earlier in the break, had spent most of the day out as Spiderman.

He'd done a little bit of work in a soup kitchen, preparing a Thanksgiving meal for the homeless, but the nice people there had shooed him out after a couple of hours to go spend time with his own family. Too bad they didn't know that it would just be him. He sighed, continuing to moodily poke at the mac 'n cheese.

There wasn't honestly a lot of crime happening during the day on Thanksgiving which was a good thing for the city, but not a good thing for Peter's growing boredom and loneliness. He helped a couple charities and chatted with a few lonely homeless people, but they all sent him away after a while, ensuring him that they were fine, and he should spend some time with his own family. Why couldn't they see that most of his family was gone? All he had left was May and she had to be at work this day. Well, Mr. Stark, Pepper, and Happy were almost like a family to Peter (he probably wasn't even a blip on their radar, but they were important to him), but they were all in some big important event over in Japan. It had something to do with the Sokovia Accords, but no one had bothered to tell Peter. All they had said was that they would be gone for most of his Thanksgiving break.

Peter did not know MJ well enough to see if he could spend the holiday with her. He knew that Ned's family would have been more than willing to let him come over, but Ned's dad was sick, so they were having the dinner in the hospital and that just really didn't seem like the kind of thing that Peter should intrude on.

He could always try to contact Steve, but the man had said that he was going to be on a mission for a few days and wouldn't be able to hold conversations longer than a line or two. For the past two days, all he'd be able to do was send a smiley face to Peter, nothing else.

It was _killing_ Peter how lonely he was. Thanksgiving was supposed to be the time where the whole family got together and made food and celebrated the fact that they were together and able to do this. But most people Peter loved were dead: his grandparents, his parents, Uncle Ben. By now, family was pretty much whoever he could convince to stick around him and most of them had their own real families to go back to.

He didn't have that luxury.

Peter shook his head. A lot of people had it worse than him. He needed to just buck up and deal with it. This was the first time this has happened, and it would hopefully be the last time. By the time Thanksgiving came around again next year, May would no longer be such a new presence at the hospital, and she wouldn't get stuck with the shifts that no one wanted. It was just one year. One single day in one single year. Peter could do this.

It didn't take long for the conviction to drain away, leaving him tired and aching in his loneliness. Desperation made him write out to Steve, _How'd the mission go?_

There was no response. Shocker. Peter shouldn't have gotten his hopes up.

It wasn't until Peter had choked down most of his by then cold macaroni (they weren't as hard off on money as they once were, but old habits died hard and Peter would never waste food) that Steve finally answered, simply writing, _It went well! We're having dinner right now, celebrating Thanksgiving._

Steve added a smiley face at the end of his statement that made Peter's heart warm even as it broke. Even though it made him sick with guilt to think it, he still couldn't help but feel jealous over the fact that the Secret Avengers were able to sit down and have a Thanksgiving dinner when he couldn't. They were in exile! And yet, here Peter was, sitting alone, trying to muster up the appetite to finish the last little bit of macaroni. #

Peter set down the pen. He didn't want to interrupt their Thanksgiving meal anymore than he already had. He had to take a deep breath to try to hold in the tears.

But then Steve was writing to him again, _Hey, where'd you go Spidey? Or did you just want to see how I was doing after the mission?_

Peter hesitated before writing, _I don't want to interrupt your Thanksgiving dinner._

Steve's response was a little slow when it came, _I always have time for my soulmate, especially on Thanksgiving. Because I am eternally thankful for you._

Peter's eyes filled with tears again, different tears that time, _I'm thankful for you too, Steve._

There was a hint of hesitance, of already forming pity, when Steve asked, _Spidey, are you with anyone?_

Taking in a deep breath, Peter toyed with the idea of telling the truth – no, he wasn't with anyone. He was horribly lonely and heartbroken in that loneliness. But… Steve was enjoying himself. He was having a nice Thanksgiving dinner with the rest of the ex-Avengers. Peter couldn't take that from him. So, he wrote back, _Yeah, she's just out at the store right now. I wanted to make sure I checked in on you at some point during the day, wanted to make sure that you made it out of the mission alright._ He knew that his writing was a little more subdued than usual. He knew that Steve would probably pick up on that fact. He just prayed that Steve thought it was for a different reason, prayed that Steve couldn't tell that he was lying.

Steve responded, _Good! No one should be alone on a day like this. Well, I'll let you get back to your family and I'll get back to mine. Love you_.

Peter signed a quick, _Love you_ back and then set his pen back down. He leaned his head back against the chair, eyes falling shut. Maybe someday he'd tell Steve that he spent Thanksgiving alone in a house meant for three. Maybe someday he'd tell Steve that lying to him hurt more than spending the day alone, but was also the only thing that made his loneliness bearable.

For now, though? Peter would just turn on some TV, try to forget his crushing loneliness, and tell himself that he was better off making sure Steve stayed happy than actually saying anything.

 **Author's Note: That had a lot more angst than I was intending it to have. This was actually supposed to be a rather fluffy chapter. I'm not really sure what happened. I guess it needed to happen, though. No relationship is perfect and sometimes there are bad things that are unresolved. I guess. Thanks for reading!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: This one is from Spideyshield's prompt! I didn't quite follow the prompt, so sorry about that! My muse was struggling a little bit towards the end and I cut it off early. Man, writing all of these chapters is so relaxing. Thanks to all of you for supporting me through this story! Read, review, and (most importantly) enjoy!**

SSSSSS

This was not at all how the mission was supposed to go. It was supposed to be an easy in and easy out mission. Go in, take the files from Hydra, get out. That simple.

The Avengers weren't supposed to be there. Spiderman wasn't supposed to be there.

The sight of Spiderman swinging in, racing past him on some sort of web (they weren't made from Spidey's body; he made them in chem class before getting access to Stark's labs), sent Steve stumbling practically into a wall. Natasha hissed at the sight, grabbing Steve's arm and stopping him from falling to the ground.

Spiderman seemed to have the same problem because he fumbled on his next web, almost splattering on the ground before he caught himself with a different web. He turned his masked face over towards Steve, eyepieces expanding and contracting as he tilted his head.

Before either of them could say anything (what would Steve even say? He wasn't at all prepared; he would just borrow some of Spiderman's rambling skills if he tried to speak), an explosion rocked the building. The centre of the ceiling caved in, almost forming a wall between Steve and Spiderman. Spiderman barely flinched at the onslaught, gaze still firmly stuck on Steve.

Iron Man flew in through the hole in the ceiling, faceplate flipping up as he called out, "We've got the base secure, Underoos. The next base is going to be practically impossible to take, but we'll burn that bridge when we get there."

Spiderman quickly flicked his face over to where Iron Man was, obviously (so, so very obviously – the kid couldn't lie or deceive to save his life) trying to deflect from Steve's group, "I don't think that's how the saying goes."

It didn't work, though. Stark narrowed his eyes, suit turning towards where Steve's group was, cut off for the moment. He muttered, "What are you looking… at." His voice went flat the second he saw Steve standing there, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda flanking him, shifting nervously.

The eyepieces in Spiderman's mask widened dramatically and he looked unsure of what to do, fingers itching outwards as though they could somehow stop this inevitable explosion.

Before Steve knew what he was doing, before he thought it through, before he even took a second to consider his team, he was offering, "We could help you take the next base. They have the information we need and you obviously need to get in there for something. I'll bet neither of us can take it on our own. It's a win-win."

Sam had tensed up behind him, shoulders tightening. Natasha went very incredibly still which meant she was not pleased. Wanda's face had gone paper-white, obviously remembering something from the Raft. Steve winced at his own words. What was he thinking?

A short glance at Spiderman told him all he needed to know: he wasn't thinking. All he knew was the Spiderman, his _soulmate_ , was right there, was waiting for him just over there. How had this day turned into this mess?

Stark snapped at him, "No way. You're lucky I'm not calling Secretary Ross right now." Spiderman flinched a little bit. Steve noticed the way Stark's eyes flicked over to him immediately in concern.

Huh, Stark really did care for him. Spiderman had said that, but it was different seeing it in person. Steve would say that Stark treated Spiderman like a son. Huh.

Surprisingly, it was Rhodey who spoke next, having flown in unnoticed after Stark, "Tones, you've gotta admit that we could use the help. The next base is going to be hard to take on our own. We don't need to like them or agree with them or help them with anything. They're offering their help and we should take it."

There was a long moment where it looked like Stark was going to say no, like they were going to get rejected and Steve was going to lose this possible moment with his soulmate. Then, shockingly (thankfully), Stark sighed and said, "Fine. Fine! We'll work with you!" Steve's shoulders loosened and he glanced hopefully over at Spiderman, hoping all of his love was conveyed in that glance. Then Stark brought all that happiness crashing down, "But you only talk with me. Don't talk to Rhodey, don't talk to Vision, and _don't_ talk to Spiderman."

Steve and his team didn't even get a chance to say anything before Spiderman had jumped up, protesting, "No! Or, um, well, you know. It would, um, be more beneficial to… teamwork? Yeah, teamwork. If we worked together. Talked together! Were able to speak with each other." Steve felt fondness crinkle the corners of his eyes and tug his lips into a small smile. Good to know that Spiderman had just as much awkward word vomit when he was talking as when he was writing.

Spiderman and Stark faced each other down, Stark's face cold, Spidey's still painfully covered by that mask. For one brief second, Stark's expression seemed to crack. There was raw pain, grief, betrayal painted across his countenance in that second. Steve was vividly reminded of the conversations he'd had with Spiderman about Stark's knowledge of their soulbond and Stark's opinion on it. Steve winced; this can't feel good for Stark. It must feel an awful lot like betrayal, honestly.

Stark's jaw clenched and he said, "All conversations go through me."

It was painful to watch Spiderman physically deflate, painful to somehow tell his expression had crumpled beneath the mask. Steve itched to reach out to him, but if he did, he had no doubt that he'd lose this chance. He might not be able to talk to Spiderman, but he'd be able to fight alongside him, would be able to just _be with him_.

Heavy metal boots finally _thunk_ -ing onto the ground, Stark stalked towards Steve's group. He snapped at Steve, "Are you going to be able to keep your eyes off the kid who's probably less than half your age – without the ice – long enough to make the plan?"

Spiderman flinched in the background, head dropping down to his chest and shoulders creeping up around his ears. An icy sort of anger stiffened Steve's own shoulders, "Insult me and my team all you want, but don't you _dare_ say something that'll hurt him."

Spiderman's head shot back up to stare at Steve, eyepieces widening again. Steve met his gaze and let his expression soften. He probably shouldn't have snapped at Stark like that, not when this whole moment was so tenuous, so likely to blow up in all their faces, but Spiderman put up with enough stuff in his life. Steve wasn't going to let someone get away with hurting him while he was right there in front of Steve. That just wasn't going to happen.

Stark purposefully avoided looking back at Spiderman and he definitely didn't apologize, but he avoided making any more pointed comments. He kept the conversation painfully focused on the plan of attack. He was aggressively stubborn on his one rule, not letting any of them talk to any of the others. It hurt Steve's heart, but he was happy enough with what he got that he wasn't going to complain. This was more than he had dared to dream of. He'd figured that the next time he'd see Spiderman would be far, far, far off in the future. Getting to see him now… it was a dream come true.

They broke for a bit of a break, Stark herding Spiderman off, voice low and harsh, causing Spiderman to tense, but not to shove his head between his shoulders like before.

Sam dragged Steve back towards their group, ripping his gaze away from Spiderman. Wanda hissed at Steve, "What were you thinking?"

Natasha gave him a calculating look, "I don't think he _was_ thinking. But, I do believe this was the better option in the long run." Steve sent her a grateful look.

Sam sent her an incredulous one, "Are you serious, Nat? There's no way that they aren't going to try to send us to jail the second we finish this mission!"

"Spiderman won't let them," Steve said. He wasn't sure where the words came from – they'd never explicitly talked about the subject, never really wanted to broach the idea. But, somehow, he just knew that Spiderman would distract Stark and the others long enough for Steve's group to get away. It would kill Spiderman to do that, would kill him to be stuck in the middle like that, but he'd do it.

The others glanced at him, tense and uncertain. They glanced back at the other group where Stark was obviously lecturing Spiderman. The teenager was clearly glancing over at Steve, though. When Steve looked over, Spiderman gave a cute little wave. Stark physically grabbed Spiderman's arm to stop him from doing more than waving. Spiderman somehow pouted through the mask.

Natasha sighed, "I think Steve's right. Spiderman won't let them take us. We need the information and Steve's head will be out of the game if we take away this opportunity for him to be with his soulmate."

Steve shot her a small glare. She smirked at him, but the edges were sharp and tense from the potential danger of their former teammates. Steve hated that he was the one who put those sharp edges back into her teasing expression. He never wanted her to feel like she had to wear a mask. They'd been doing so well at showing her that she didn't need masks _all_ the time, but this looked like a serious setback.

Sighing, Steve nodded to the group, "Alright, we have the plan down. We know what we all need to do. With the help of the Avengers," it always hurt Steve to say Avengers and mean someone else, "we can take this base out no problem. I promise you I will do my best to not get distracted by Spiderman."

"As much as this whole thing stresses me out and as mad as I am that you just offered our help like that without asking," Sam started, putting a hand on Steve's shoulder to show that it was all forgiven in the long run, "I'm glad you get this chance to be with Spidey, man. I know how hard it's been for both of you. Besides, this way I'll have a memory of him that _doesn't_ include him kicking my butt and vice versa. I won in the long run, though."

Smirking, Steve countered, "You and the Winter Soldier working together won and even then it was a close call and he'd been a superhero for, what, a couple of months? And it was his first time wearing that suit."

"Yeah, yeah, smirk about your boy all you want. I won fair and square and I _will_ fight you on that," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

Steve laughed, throwing his head back and revelling at the way Spiderman's head whipped towards the sound, hints of a smile twisting at the edges of the mask. He sent Spiderman a bashful smile, ignoring the gagging noises that Sam and Natasha were making behind him. Wanda was being unusually quiet, but Steve let that go for the moment. He'd have time to make sure she was alright after they took this next base.

Stark flew over to them, faceplate down and voice as cold and hard as the metal forming his suit, "Come on, we're going."

"Yessir," Sam muttered sullenly. Steve sent him a warning look, but couldn't help feeling the same way. Yeah, Stark had bad blood with them, but that didn't mean that he had to be such a douche about it all. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Spiderman flick himself out of the building, webs swinging him gracefully through the air (reminding him of when Spiderman had promised to swing him through the city one day when they were finally able to be together). Maybe Stark did have a reason for being such a douche. He felt like he needed to protect Spiderman. He was on edge because his kid was around all of these criminals and Stark wasn't sure what to do to protect the kid. Steve felt a little bit of him settle at the thought. He could let Stark's attitude slide. Just this once. For Spiderman.

They moved towards the next base.

Most of the journey to the other base was silent, two separate and silent jets aiming towards the building with sharp precision. Steve was breathless with anticipation, waiting to see his love fighting. Spiderman moved with such preternatural grace and beauty when he fought on television; Steve could only imagine what he fought like live.

Stark had thrown Steve some sort of bone and allowed Steve to be on the same fight team as Spiderman. It would be him, Spiderman, Stark, Wanda, and Sam on one team and Rhodey, Natasha, and Vision on the other. Steve's group would be the main attack force, drawing attention and fire while Natasha's team snuck in, took the information, and destroyed the base from the inside. It was a rough plan, but the base wasn't terribly well fortified. Fortified enough that they'd needed to team up, but not more than that.

Steve made the first move, sending his shield flying _through_ the door. From that moment on, Steve fell into the battle, mind tunnelling down into the battle, extraneous details and thoughts filed away for later.

He was certainly aware of Spiderman leaping and flipping around him, webs perfectly aimed, and punches perfectly thrown. They worked in glorious tandem, bursts of action weaving in and out of each other's defences. Each movement was perfectly organized to accent and aid the movement of their soulmate. Steve felt something wound tight in his chest settle at the easy movements, at the clear acknowledgement of their soul bond. They were born to be each other's perfect match.

The battle ended with little fanfare, the others joining them in their fight at some point. When it was finished, Steve stood there, breathing hard. He was vaguely aware that he was grinning, grinning harder than he'd grinned since the Avengers were handed the Sokovia Accords to "think over."

Steve turned to Spiderman, standing maybe three or four feet away (too far, way too far; Steve wanted Spiderman to be right in front of him, right in his arms). He opened his mouth to say something. He didn't know what he was going to say, wasn't sure it mattered. This was Spiderman. He wouldn't care was Steve said so long as it was Steve saying it.

He dithered for too long, though. Stark took the hesitation to bodily plant himself between Steve and Spiderman, causing both of them to slump. Stark flipped his faceplate up, scowling fiercely. He growled, "Communication goes through _me_ , Rogers. Got that?"

A muscle ticked in Steve's jaw, but he forced out, "Got it."

Something like regret flashed through Stark's expression, but it was gone too soon for Steve to accurately describe it as such. Shaking his head, Stark sighed, "Get out of here, Rogers. People are coming in to apprehend these guys and you'll get us both in trouble if you're still here when they get here." By the end, Stark's voice was worn down and weary, sounding bone-deep exhausted. Steve felt for him.

Stark turned and started walking away, but Steve stopped him, calling out, "Wait, Stark! Can I – can I just talk to him? Please? One conversation. That's all I'm asking for. Just give me a chance to have one conversation with him."

Stark grit his teeth, "You have _plenty_ of conversations with him."

Steve didn't bother denying it, "You know it's different. Please, Stark. This is me, begging you. _Please_."

For a split second, it looked like Stark would agree. Then the split second was gone and Stark's expression went back to cold, "No."

And then he was off, flying back over to Spiderman. The arachnid-themed hero's eyepieces had widened, and his head was tilted off towards Steve. Briefly, Steve remembered a conversation where Spiderman said that he had super hearing as well. He'd probably heard the whole conversation.

Stark was already walking away, one hand reaching out to tighten around Spiderman's arm, ready to physically drag him away. Sam, Wanda, and Natasha came up to flank Steve, watching the scene sadly, Sam's hand resting lightly on Steve's shoulder in comfort.

Vision was watching Wanda longingly and Rhodey looked torn between a pained expression and a disapproving one aimed at Stark.

But Steve only had eyes for Spiderman. Which is why he was the first to realize what Spiderman was doing.

Steve broke into a huge smile as Spiderman used his free arm to frantically, quickly, pull the headpiece of his suit off. Stark managed only a cut-off shout before Spiderman's face was free and –

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Steve wasn't sure how it happened, but he was pretty sure that he fell in love all over again. Spiderman was _beautiful_. He was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen. Steve's fingers itched for the need to grab a pencil. Spiderman's face slowly creased into a frankly adorable smile, doe eyes crinkling and mask hair flopping down almost into his eyes (Steve remembered Spiderman mentioned that he'd wanted to get a haircut the past weekend, but had been too busy and had forgotten).

Spiderman opened his mouth, ready to shout something, anything (please let it be his name, please let Steve be able to call this gorgeous, handsome, _perfect_ man by his name).

Then Stark's metal gauntlet clapped gently over Spiderman's mouth, cutting him off even as Stark bodily picked the slighter hero up, lifting him struggling and squirming into the air. Steve and Spiderman maintained bright, perfect eye contact for as long as they could see each other. Steve had never been happier about his enhanced sight than at that moment.

Steve commented reverently, "He's beautiful."

Rhodey glanced at him, startled for a moment before he settled, expression bending into another pained expression before he took off without saying anything. Vision left without looking at anyone but Wanda.

Sam patted Steve's back carefully, "You okay, man?"

Thinking for a moment, Steve let another slow smile spread over his expression, "I'm perfect. He's perfect."

Snorting, Sam grinned, "I won't comment on another man's soulmate. But I will say that he is the definition of cute and innocent. Don't you dare corrupt him." The group started walking back towards their jet.

Steve raised an eyebrow, "Me? Corrupt him? He's the one who knows all of this day and age's inappropriate stuff or whatever."

" Stuff or whatever,'" Natasha mocked.

Wanda teased lightly, "They are both too innocent to corrupt each other. Poor babies."

Steve laughed and smiled. It didn't matter what they said. It didn't matter what anyone said ever again. Steve got to see his soulmate's face. More importantly, he got to see that beautiful, gorgeous smile overtake Spiderman's face. Steve's own smile widened. He certainly was in love.

 **Author's Note: So, I'm not sure if you're interested because I've never mentioned it, but if you wanted to know what other soulmates I imagine in this soulmate AU (they won't be written or even mentioned at all because Steve and Peter are complicated enough), here they are: Wanda and Vision, Sam and Bucky (and/or Scott… I can't really pick between Bucky and Scott for Sam), Natasha and Bruce (I don't know why I ship this because it weirds me out, but whatever), Rhodey and Carol, Tony and Pepper, Clint and Laura, Ned and some random person, MJ and Flash (okay, I know that's strange, but I actually adore Flash and his character – in comics and in the movies – which is awful because he's so mean to Peter and a lot of other people and all that, but I just love him and I think they would be so cute together), and a weird three-way soul bond between May, Ben, and Happy (May and Happy is another ship that I don't really understand and it weirds me out, but I also strangely approve?). Just in case you were interested! Thanks for reading!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: My final prompt chapter! The prompts for this chapter are from Radio Rascal and hchollym. The next (and final) two chapters will contain Endgame spoilers! Do not read until you've watched Endgame! Alright, read, review, and enjoy!**

PPPPPP

Peter tore through his food, ravenously devouring the food Mrs. Leeds put on the table. As much as Peter loved his aunt and as much as May had been actively trying to get better at cooking, Mrs. Leeds' food was the _actual best_. The. Best.

And she'd gone all out for the Christmas meal, too. There was an enormous spread from one end of the table to another because, "growing boys need to eat!" Peter couldn't agree more. Especially with his enhanced metabolism.

Still, as excited as Peter was to be spending Christmas with May _and_ the Leeds, there was a note of discordant sadness around him. This was only his second Christmas without Ben. And this time there was the added knowledge that his soulmate was somewhere far away because they couldn't safely see each other. It hurt Peter to think about.

But he wouldn't think that way! He wouldn't! For those who couldn't be with him this Christmas, he'd be happy. And really, they were so lucky that the Leeds had offered their house to celebrate Christmas. They were basically part of the family anyways and they knew that it was just May and Peter celebrating Christmas in that little apartment with no other family to join them.

So, Peter would choose to be grateful. He could feel guilty for being happy on a different day. On _this_ day, Peter was going to be happy. He was going to give Christmas the respect it deserved, and he was going to ensure that he and everyone around him stayed happy the whole day.

May laughed uproariously, "You're kidding?"

"Not at all," Mr. Leeds shook his head as Ned tried to melt into the floor underneath him, "It was quite the spectacle! It wouldn't have been so funny, but Ned was so embarrassed that it just made the situation all the funnier!"

Peter grinned at his friend before leaning in close, "This is how I feel every time you have a conversation with my aunt. She somehow always manages to work an embarrassing story in."

Ned glowered at him, muttering mulishly, "That's because you do a lot of things to create all those embarrassing stories." Peter beamed at him. Ned huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes and pushing at Peter's shoulders. Raising an eyebrow in challenge, Peter prepared himself for a retaliatory push. If he angled it just right, he could probably push Ned off his chair without tapping into his super strength.

Mrs. Leeds and May's voices going off at the same time instantly stopped Peter's plans, "Boys? Behave."

Ned batted his eyelashes at the women, "My saviours!" Mrs. Leeds rolled her eyes at the same time that her husband started laughing. May played up the action, striking a dramatic pose that left Peter snickering.

May narrowed her eyes at Peter, daring him to comment. He raised his hands up, adopting his best innocent look (which he knew wasn't all that good at all because he couldn't pull off a deceit to save the world). May rolled her eyes at him, following it up with her patented soft smile. It was the softest, warmest thing Peter could always imagine. If he was a wizard and was trying to summon a Patronus, he'd just think of any memory that had her smiling like that at him.

Mrs. Leeds tutted suddenly, "We've forgotten that special pie! Dear! You said you were going to get it."

Mr. Leeds's eyes grew wide, sweat beads already forming along his hairline, "I… what? Uh, sorry. I, uh, I thought you were going to get it?"

Nose flaring, Mrs. Leeds glared at him, "We had a very clear discussion where we decided that you would get the pie!"

Swallowing convulsively, Mr. Leeds offered a wan smile, "Sorry?"

Sighing, Mrs. Leeds stood up, grabbing her purse and calling out to May, "Watch after these hopeless boys for me while I'm gone, alright? I'm going to go over to that pie shop. Here's to hoping they still have the pie."

May sent her a commiserating look before the other woman was gone, prepared to go out on Christmas just to get a specific pie. Peter and Ned shared incredulous glances.

Mr. Leeds stood up, "Well, I see that we're all done eating. Let's get these plates taken care of. Oh, no, you don't need to do a thing! I'll take care of it! You three go hang out in the living room while I wash up. I'll come join you after that!" They smiled and nodded, heading out of the dining room and into the living room.

Peter had barely sat down before he felt something scratching at his leg. He pulled up a pants leg slightly, reading the words forming over his skin, _Merry Christmas!_

 _Merry Christmas, Steve! Did you just get up?_ Peter asked, curious about the timing.

Steve wrote back, _Haha, yeah. Although, I slept in a good bit today, so it's not like Christmas just started._

Peter snorted, writing, _You slept in? Does that mean you slept til 7 this morning?_

He could hear the eye roll in Steve's response, _No, brat. I slept until 11, thank you very much. I am capable of sleeping in._ Peter grinned at the writing. Before he could get out a response, Steve was asking, _What are you up to?_

 _Nothing much. We just finished eating Christmas dinner. We're waiting for my friend's mom to come back with a pie right now. They get this particular pie every year and it's magical. How about you?_ Peter asked.

Steve wrote back, _Nothing much either. The others are trying to get me to drink some of the wine that Thor left behind, but I figured I'd text you before I got drunk._

Peter sat up, writing excitedly, _I always forget that you know Thor! That's so awesome! He's amazing! I have literally never seen better hair – no offence, of course! But, I mean, it's Thor. His hair is literal magic. I don't even entirely believe in magic (it's all science), but I can tell you that Thor's hair is magic. Don't you agree?_

Steve's response was short, almost terse, _I'm not sure I've really noticed anything special about his hair._

Raising his eyebrow at Steve's strange behaviour, Peter wrote, _Maybe it's just not as cool up close. But his suit is super cool! Have you seen the way his suit literally just creates itself onto his skin whenever he wants it to? I'm so jealous. I have to climb in and out of my suit. It's such a hassle. Wouldn't it be awesome if we were all more like Thor?_

 _I don't know, his costume's kind of tacky. And who knows how well it would hold up against any sort of weaponry. Suits like ours are more practical_ , Steve answered, that terse tone still there. Peter had an inkling of an idea about where that tone was coming from.

To test it, Peter wrote, _Well, yeah, but Thor is a god. He doesn't need practical suits. All he needs is to look glorious in his own suit._

 _Maybe 'glorious' is a bit of a stretch. You haven't seen him at his bad points_ , Steve answered.

Peter's grin split his face and he threw back his head and laughed. Ned and May glanced at him bemusedly, May asking, "Something funny?"

"I just made Captain America jealous," Peter grinned, mischief lighting up his eyes.

Ned's eyes lit up too, "No way! Seriously? How?"

"I started talking about how awesome Thor was," Peter started, relaying the whole conversation back to them.

May's eyes twinkled with mischief, "Say that his bad points just show that he has a sensitive side. Despite being an alien, he still has that humanness. It's sweet." Peter cackled as he relayed her words.

Steve's response was instant, words thick against Peter's skin like they'd been pressed hard onto the skin, _No, really. Trust me. It's not sweet. It's actually kind of obnoxious. He's very high and mighty._

Ned smacked the couch excitedly, "Say that you think it sounds like he doesn't like Thor."

Steve's response was even more rushed that time as he hastened to write, _No, no! I don't dislike him! He's great actually. Really, he's an amazing guy. I just, uh. Yeah._

By that point, Ned, Peter, and May were all cackling, rolling back against the couches as they laughed. Mr. Leeds peeked his head out from the kitchen to see what they were doing, but apparently decided he didn't want to know because he retreated back into the kitchen soon enough.

Peter snorted one last time before saying, "Alright, I'm going to put the poor guy out of his misery. He doesn't deserve this on Christmas."

May actually pouted at him, "Aw, seriously? I had some good ones."

Peter grinned at her, but still wrote Steve, _Haha, I'm just messing with you! You know I love you best. Thor's not taking your place, don't worry._

He could practically hear the head shake in Steve's answer, _You think you're so funny don't you? You're lucky you're so cute. Purposefully making me jealous. Shame on you._

 _Well, I thought you were cute when you were jealous. It was adorable, really,_ Peter teased.

There was definitely a laugh in Steve's next words, _Alright, alright. I get it. Now, you go back to your family and celebrate Christmas, alright? I'm going to go get drunk. Love you, Spidey._

Peter smiled down at his leg, _Love you too, Steve_.

 **Author's Note: Figured I should leave you some pure fluff before we get to the Endgame stuff :P Thanks for reading!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: Alright, I'm back! Sorry this took so long! I got trapped in a TV show. Unfortunately, that TV show ended up betraying me by having an awful second to last season (it was so bad that I literally could not watch the last season even though I had gotten through 7 previous seasons; I'm so mad still). Anyways! Finally back up! Thanks for reading guys! Just letting you know, this is meant to mirror the first two chapters! Also! I'll be using quite a bit of quotes from Endgame. More than I planned to :P Read, review, and enjoy!**

SSSSSS

Steve had always been under the impression that his life was pretty good. It hadn't been the easiest life – he'd had a rough time of it recently with two years spent on the roads, trying to fight for his freedom – but it was still a good life. He had his team and his mission. They made it through everything together and nothing seemed quite so tough with them fighting with him, always in his corner.

But then, there was one blight on his life, one single thing that made his life unbearable, unliveable. His soulmate's death.

The soulmate process was sort of complicated, but easy enough when you grow into the idea. The one part that people never talked about, though, was the death of a soulmate. It was said that those who haven't experienced it can't possibly explain it and those who have experienced it never want to talk about it.

Steve could understand why.

He had never in his life felt such crippling pain as when Spiderman died. It was pain unlike any other he'd known. Even now, over three weeks later, his chest still _burned_ , still _ached_. He wasn't sure that pain would ever go away. And it broke his heart to know that this was happening all around the world. With half the population wiped out, there were _millions_ of people stuck in this same, endless void of pain and misery as he was.

Steve sighed, leaning his head against a post. Captain Marvel said that she was going to be back with Stark at any moment. He wanted to muster some sort of feeling towards Stark, anger for letting Spiderman die, pity for the man lost in space, guilt for not being there, but he couldn't. There was just… a void. An empty emotional landscape that fit in perfectly on this empty earth in this empty universe.

From his side, Rhodey's lips turned down, a hand raised slightly towards Steve like he wanted to do something, to say something. Steve didn't acknowledge it, instead remaining slumped slightly against the wall. He would straighten up at some point. He just… didn't feel like it at the moment.

Lips twisting, Rhodey sighed, "Look, I know the others have talked to you about this and everything and I know they probably did a better job than I'm about to do, but I've gotta try. Steve, I can't imagine how you're hurting right now, but you can't let this destroy you. You're letting yourself go. You've lost too much weight for it to be healthy. Don't think I can't see the bags under your eyes. Nat tells me you haven't eaten a full meal since the snap. You can't let yourself fall apart like this, man."

Steve… wanted to answer, wanted to reassure the other man. Captain America would reassure Rhodey. He just couldn't quite convince himself to answer. So, he just shrugged slightly.

Rhodey frowned deeply again, obviously gearing himself up to say something else, but a large shadow flashing overhead stopped him. They both straightened and looked up to see Captain Marvel floated back down to earth, a spaceship held casually in her arms. Steve couldn't help the brief thought that Spiderman would have fanboy-ed so hard at this. His lips fell into a deeper frown at the thought. Next to him, Rhodey winced.

Then, in front of them, the door to the ship opened. There was a brief hiss and a mechanic whirring before it opened all the way. He saw Stark being supported by a blue mechanical woman and he ran forward. His life might be falling apart (who was he kidding? It wasn't falling. It had already fallen apart as far as it could go) but he wasn't so far gone that he wouldn't help Stark out.

He winced when he got closer to Stark, grabbing him from the blue woman and helping him down the stairs of the craft. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask.

Stark beat him to it, "I couldn't stop him." He sounded so frantic, so panicked at the thought.

Steve's breath left him in a whoosh, "Neither could I."

Stark stopped him, pulling them both to an unsteady stop. His head was barely staying up on his neck and his eyes kept fluttering slightly, but he kept looking straight into Steve's eyes, breathing harshly. He gripped Steve's forearm, staring at him with such pain writ across his face, "I lost the kid."

Fingers spasming against Stark's back, Steve tried to hold in his wince, his instinctual burst of pain. His jaw clenched and his eyes watered. He just barely forced out, " _We_ lost." Because it was both of them. If they'd pulled together sooner, if they'd done things right all those years ago during the Sokovia Accords mess, they wouldn't have had this problem.

Stark opened his mouth, made another sound like he was going to say something else (what else could he say?), but he didn't get a chance before Pepper swooped in, pulling Stark out of Steve's hands and into her embrace.

Steve physically fell back as Pepper pulled Stark away. He took in a deep breath, trying to keep in the emotions that were filling him, bursting out of him like wildfire. His eyes squeezed shut. Spiderman was dead. Spiderman was dead. He had died on that planet so far from home that it made Steve's heart ache.

Stumbling away, Steve shook off Natasha's hand as he kept walking, head down, ignoring the heart-warming reunion behind him. He didn't want his heart to be warmed. He wanted to get drunk and forget this ever happened. He wanted to be away from this place. He wanted to be with Spiderman.

Steve shook his head, blinking rapidly to dispel the tears that had been gathering. He breathed in sharply as he pushed open a door. He didn't want to die. He couldn't do that to Spiderman's memories. It wasn't fair. He needed to remember Spiderman and live on for him. He _had to_.

And as soon as Stark was feeling better, Steve was going to go up to him and ask him what Spiderman's name was. He'd meet Spiderman's family and his friends, and he'd apologize to them, for making Spiderman's life so hard, for not being able to be there for Spiderman, for letting him die.

As soon as Stark was feeling better.

SSSSSS

Steve didn't get a chance to talk to Stark until they were _all_ talking to him. There was an itching, burning urge in the back of his throat just begging him to ask the question he needed to know, regardless of propriety, regardless of the importance of what they were talking about. He just… couldn't quite convince himself to do it. Not when Stark looked so pitiful. Not when he was shallowly leaning against a chair, IV hooked up to his arm and ribs straining against his skin. He'd ask later.

Steve tuned back into the conversation when Rocket started speaking (as strange as the many things in this time period were, Steve still found himself a little uncomfortable with talking to an intelligent raccoon), "Maybe I am."

Clearing his throat slightly, knowing it did nothing to remove the wrecked quality to his voice that he wasn't sure would ever go away, Steve said, "We've been hunting Thanos for three weeks now. Deep space scans, satellites, and we got nothing. Tony, you fought him." He was aware that his voice was passionless, aimless, _broken_. He didn't much care.

Besides, Stark's voice had enough passion for the two of them, "Who told you that? I didn't fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the stone. That's what happened. There was no fight." Steve winced at the description. Where had Spiderman been? Had he been hurt during the altercation?

Swallowing down his questions (his pain, his will to keep going), Steve pushed, "Did he give you any clues, any coordinates, anything?"

Tony wasn't even really looking at him anymore, drifting even as he sat there and spoke to them, "I saw this coming a few years back. I had a vision. Didn't want to believe it. Thought I was dreaming." Steve's lips twisted down and he shared a concerned glance with Rhodey.

Carefully, Steve said, "Tony, I'm going to need you to focus." Cases like Tony's were hard to deal with in the beginning. Sometimes it was better to let them come back into themselves after time with close friends and family. Sometimes it was better to push them into a mission, into some sort of driven goal. At least, that's how it had been in the war when soldiers dealing with trauma, a loss, and survivor's guilt came back to a headquarters. Steve had had to fight this battle with some of the men he'd rescued from that first Hydra base.

Apparently, he'd chosen the wrong method because Tony's gaze fixed right back on him, razor sharp and filled with enough venom that Steve almost felt something for the first time in weeks. Tony sneered at Steve, "And I needed you. As in past tense. That trumps what you need. It's too late buddy. Sorry. You know what I need? I need a shave." He stood, hand clumsily knocking things off the table, Rhodey desperately trying to stop him from straining himself. Tony stalked over to Steve, voice still shattered in the worst possible way, shards of glass aimed outwards, "And I believe I remember telling you, _Cap_ that what the world needed was a suit of armour around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our _precious_ freedom or not – _that's_ what we needed!"

His voice was grating Steve the wrong way. Tony had needed him? That was rich. Stark was the one who kicked him out in the first place! If Stark had just seen what a sham the Accords were, they would have still been working together! And a suit of armour around the world? First of all, what good would that have done? Thanos was already unbelievably powerful by the time he came to Earth. You could not convince Steve that Ultron would have been able to stop Thanos from getting through. Bitterly, Steve spoke his second point aloud, "Well, that didn't work out, did it?" It didn't. Ultron was a failure. A failure that lead to the destruction of Sokovia which lead to the creation of the Accords. Steve didn't blame Tony for it, not completely (how could he? There were too many problems happening at once), but Stark had _no_ room to go around and blame _Steve_.

Tony's face pulled into a snarl and he moved even closer, Rhodey's expression falling into tense worry, "I said, 'we'll lose.' You said, 'we'll do that together too.' And guess what, Cap? We lost. You weren't there. But that's what we do, right? Our best work after the fact? We're the Avengers. We're the _A_ -vengers. Not the _Pre_ -vengers, right?"

Rhodey splayed a gentle hand across Tony's chest even as Steve reeled with the words. Rhodey quietly said, "That's enough, Tony. You've made your point."

But Tony wasn't done yet, "No, no, no. Here's my point." He swivelled until he was facing a distinctly unimpressed Captain Marvel, "She's great, by the way. We need you. You're new blood. Just make sure that Cap here doesn't try to take a bite out of you. He likes the young ones."

Steve saw red. His muscles jumped and he leaned forward. Rhodey almost jumped in front of Tony, but he paused, seemingly allowing Steve to do as he needed. It was that calm trust that stopped Steve from going further than he wanted to. As furious as he was, Steve recognized that Tony was hurting, that losing Spiderman was hard on him too. He knew that his and Spiderman's relationship had always been a point of contention between the three of them. He couldn't let Tony's words get to him. Tony needed stability and trust in order to get better.

But Tony didn't seem willing to stop. He slouched back towards Steve, "Bunch of tired old mills! I've got nothing for you, Cap! I got no coordinates, no clues, no plan, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada." He paused, leaning forward to make sure that his last words caused the most amount of pain, "No trust. _Corruptor_. _Liar_."

Steve opened his mouth, ready to say something, not ready to speak at all because Tony's words _hurt him_ in a way he hadn't thought he could still hurt (the hole where Spiderman's soul had once moved in harmony with his burned and Tony's words were like acid poured into the wound). Tony beat him to it, hand shaking as he ripped the Arc Reactor from his chest, "Here, take this. You find Thanos, and you put that on. You hide. I don't care if you live or die, but _he_ would. This is only for _him_."

Steve knew who Tony meant by _him_ , but he didn't _fully_ know. He still needed to know Spiderman's name. And this wasn't the right time to ask. This was possibly one of the worst times to ask. But Steve _needed_ to know. He gripped the Arc Reactor, eyes as genuine as he could get them, "Tony, _please_ , what was his name? I only knew him as Spiderman. What was his name? _Please_."

But Tony's eyes at hardened at the question and he'd started backing quickly away. He shook his head, eyes dark. He fell to the ground, prompting everyone to rush forward. Rhodey fell to his knees with a painful sounding clunk, already reaching out for Tony, shouting his name. Tony just managed to get out, "I'm fine…" before he passed out.

Irrationally, Steve felt a lick of frustration. It wasn't Tony's fault that he fell unconscious. If anything, it was Steve's. He'd pushed at Tony until the man broke. He was awful. He shouldn't have done that. He should have done better. He'd failed Spiderman by hurting his mentor like that.

Steve closed his eyes and shook his head as Pepper and Rhodey carried Tony out of the room, Bruce trailing them demurely. He needed to stop thinking like that. He needed… he needed to get out of there. He needed a mission. He needed to punch somebody. He needed that gaping, pulsing wound in his soul to _go away_. He needed Spiderman back.

Captain Marvel was eyeing him with something that looked painfully like pity, but then she moved on to talk about taking out Thanos. Steve felt a part of him settle. A mission. He could do that. He _could_.

FIVE YEARS LATER

The group therapy lessons that Steve kind of leads aren't helping him. He thinks that they help the others, but they don't help him. He sits there, a poster at his back proclaiming the name of the meeting: WHERE DO WE GO, NOW THAT THEY'RE GONE? It's a valid question. It's not one that Steve had been able to answer in five years.

Joe shrugged a little bit at his turn, nodding at the attention they were all giving him, "So… I, uh, went on a date the other day. First time in five years, you know? Sit there, dinner… I didn't know what to talk about. Never had that problem with my soulmate. Never thought I would _have_ to have that problem after meeting him."

Gently, Steve prodded, "What did you end up talking about?"

"Same old, you know? How things have changed, and… my job, his job… How much we miss the Mets," Joe responded, drawing a subdued chuckle from the group, "Then things got quiet. He cried as they were serving the salads."

"How about you?" Mark asked, sounding a little gruffer than usual, but that just meant he was concerned.

Joe ducked his head, "I cried… just before dessert. But… I'm seeing him tomorrow, so…" He let his words trail off.

Tammy gave him a genuine smile and a soft, "Good job."

This wasn't the first time someone had tried going on a date, but it was the first time someone from this group had gotten a second date. Most of the time, one party or the other would break it off because it was too painful. Steve knew that it was certainly too painful. Other than Peggy and maybe Bucky, he'd never considered being with someone other than his soulmate. Even with Spiderman dead… he wasn't sure he could manage it, wasn't sure he'd even be brave enough to make the first step.

But he couldn't tell them that. So, he mustered up a smile for Joe and addressed the whole group, "That's great. You did the hardest part. You took the jump, you didn't know where you were going to come down. And that's it. That's those little brave baby steps you've gotta take. To try and become… not whole again. We have to accept that we can't be fully whole without our soulmates, but we can still _be_ without them. Try and find purpose. I went in the ice in '45 right after I met someone who I thought I was going to be with, regardless of who my soulmate was. Woke up 70 years later. You got to move on. _Got_ to move on. The world is in our hands. It's left to us, guys, and we have to do something with it. Otherwise… Thanos should have killed us all."

There was a grave silence after his words as the people in the room tried to process what he said, tried to take in the words and understand them. Shelly gave a little smile, "Well, I think that inspirational speech was a good way to end the day." Some of the other members gave her startled smiles and she pointed at her watch, "Times up."

Everyone nodded gratefully at her and started packing up their things, sending each other quiet goodbyes. Although the mood in the world was generally more sombre than it had ever been before the snap, there were still times where these meetings were livelier, where they felt like they could have fun.

But today? Jack's soulmate's birthday would have been today, and Joe had just gone on that date. There was a lot to think about, a lot to reflect over. It… it had been a rough session.

Steve sighed, trying to centre himself as he got on his motorcycle. He'd promised Spiderman that he'd take him for a ride one day. Spiderman said that was alright as long as Steve promised to swing around the city on Spiderman's webs. Out of habit, Steve glanced up, almost expected a bright suit to come swinging between the skyscrapers.

He shook his head; that meeting he really gotten to him. He'd broken himself of that habit two years ago when he started coming to New York proper more regularly. For _years_ , he'd dreamed of coming to New York and seeing Spiderman. He'd dreamed that he'd run on the ground until Spiderman stopped swinging and then he'd grab Spiderman, run somewhere without prying eyes, and then take Spiderman's mask off and kiss him senseless. It was a silly, pointless daydream, but Steve had dreamed it enough that he'd looked up at the skyscrapers, searching for scraps of webs for years after Thanos. It was a self-destructive habit, but there were a lot of self-destructive things Steve did for the first few years without Spiderman (without Bucky, without Sam, without Wanda, without T'Challa, without so many others he'd come to rely on).

Blinking, Steve came back to himself and realized that he was almost to the compound. He winced when he realized how much time he'd just lost. _That_ hadn't happened in a while either. There had been times where he'd lose whole days (an entire week on one memorable occasion – that had been the first time he and Stark had spoken cordially with each other in a long time) in his shattered depression.

Honestly, there were times where he wished he couldn't remember _any_ of those first few years. He'd only just gained back the weight and muscle he'd lost in those years of wallowing and _crippling_ depression. He was getting better, though. Setbacks were okay. Not great or ideal, but okay, expected.

Slowly getting off his motorbike, Steve trudged into the base, heart sinking when he saw how close to tears Natasha was. He didn't know what to do, how to react. He wasn't sure he could get through another therapy session. Still, he joked, "You know I'd offer to cook you dinner but you seem pretty miserable already."

Natasha kept going with the easy-going tone, "You here to do your laundry?"

"To see a friend," Steve responded immediately, softly.

She grimaced up at him, "Clearly, your friend is fine." She sent him something that was obviously supposed to be some sort of glare, but her edges had softened too much over the years he'd known her for it to really come off as anything but a plea for help.

Trying to change the mood, Steve said, "You know, I saw a pod of whales when I was coming up the bridge." He remembered that much from his trip to the compound at least.

She raised an eyebrow at him, skin around her eyes still blotchy red, "In the Hudson?"

"There's fewer ships, cleaner waters," Steve shrugged. Now that he was thinking on it further (with a clearer head), the moment would have been good to draw. Maybe he'd draw it and present it at the next group therapy meeting. It might help some of them.

Natasha interrupted his thought process, "You know, if you're about to tell me to look on the bright side, um... I'm about to hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich." They both shared a small smile at the conversation, but Steve let his point drop regardless.

He slouched into a chair in front of her, grimacing playfully, "Sorry, force of habit. I don't know. I keep telling people to move on, but… I'm not moving on. I don't think I _can_ move on. Without Spiderman… without a lot of the people we're missing. It's been five years. I keep feeling like I should be over this already, like I shouldn't be so stuck on the past. But I am. And I know that's alright. I get that everyone heals at different rates. It just… I wish I could live a better life. For _him_."

Natasha gave him a commiserating glance, "Steve, I never really met him, but I heard enough from you that I know that no matter what you did, it would make Spiderman happy. You could spend the rest of your life curled up miserably in bed and he'd still be proud of you. Just the fact that you're going out there and trying to help people is more than enough for him. I _know_ it."

Steve smiled gratefully at her, "Thanks Nat. I'm… trying to remember that."

She smiled back, "That's all anyone asks for, Steve."

His lips twisted into something a little more sardonic, "Don't think you got out of sharing your own feelings."

Natasha ducked her head, rolling her eyes, "I used to have nothing. Then I got this. This job, this team, this… family. And I was… I was better because of it. And even though… they're gone… I'm still trying to get better."

Steve could tell that it had taken a lot for Natasha to open up as much as she did, tears pushing gently at the corners of her eyes again. Steve sighed, "We both need to get a life."

Natasha smirked, "You first."

Then Ant Man came. And he changed everything because… because his idea might just work.

SSSSSS

Steve winced a little bit when Tony sighed the second they got out of the car. He was carrying his kid – Morgan or something like that – in his arms, balanced on his hips. Natasha bit her lip slightly before she looked at Steve, "Maybe I should go talk to him first. Break the ice a little, you know?"

Hanging his head, Steve sighed, "Yeah, probably. Don't want to start this with a fight."

"What? You – you guys aren't on better terms yet?" Scott asked, eyebrow raised judgementally.

Steve sighed again, "It's not that simple."

"The world's gone downhill in a rolling dumpster fire and you guys – the Avengers – were, like, one of the best ways to unify the world. And, what? You guys couldn't get over whatever you were fighting about during Civil War? The Sokovia Accords are toast now. No one around to enforce them or whatever. Can't you just… make up?" Scott asked, expression painfully open.

Frowning, Steve set his jaw, "My soulmate is Spiderman. We met in that battle in Berlin. I never got to learn his name. Those whole two years between our fight and Thanos's snap, I never learned Spiderman's name. Tony knows it. He won't tell me. He didn't approve of our relationship. It's a sore point that the two of us hadn't quite been able to get past." He knew that his voice was clipped, and he was being a lot ruder than he should be in this situation. It just… it really was a sort point. Five years later and Tony still couldn't let go of a grudge long enough to just tell Steve his soulmate's name? That's not a hard thing to ask. Steve wasn't asking for the world.

But Tony was insistent on that point. It was something he would always be insistent on. And besides, it didn't matter anymore. They were going to get Scott's plan to work and they were going to snap everyone back into existence. Spiderman would be there, and Steve would be able to ask Spiderman himself. He didn't need Tony to tell him. (Steve ignored the part of him that would always be _heartbroken_ at the state of his and Tony's friendship).

Natasha came back to the thick, stilted silence that had fallen over the two in the wake of Steve's admission. She raised an eyebrow at them, but didn't say anything, instead leading them over to where Tony was sitting in a porch chair, leaned back, jaw tight.

"Tony," Steve said, nodding to him as amicably as possible.

"Steve," Tony said back, managing an almost genuine looking smile. Steve's heart clenched. Scott looked between the two of them apprehensively.

Scott opened and closed his mouth a couple times, but he didn't say anything. Eventually, Tony rolled his eyes and pointed to Scott, "Who's that one?"

Natasha answered swiftly, not letting the obviously frustrated Scott talk, "That's Scott Lang. I think you'd know him better as Ant Man. He had an idea and we'd like your help with it."

Tony narrowed his eyes at them. He paused for a long moment before sighing, "Alright bug-man. Lay it on me."

Scot visibly bristled, but at Natasha's knock-it-off look, he settled instantly, demurely explaining his unique circumstances and plan.

The plan which was instantly rejected by Tony. He barely gave them a chance to argue their point before shutting them down. He wasn't going to help.

Honestly, Steve thought it was going to end the way most of his conversations with Tony ended – loud, screaming fights – but Morgan rushed out instead, latching onto Tony's leg before he picked her up, settling her in his lap. She blinked up at him, "Mommy told me to come and save you."

He ruffled her hair, tucking her closer, "Good job. I'm saved." He turned back to them, "I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I… I missed you guys, it was…" He trailed off. Steve thought he wasn't going to say anything else, but then Tony suddenly rallied, sending them a brittle smile, "Oh, and table's set for six."

Steve felt his heart clench again. He tried one more time, "Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you, I really am. But this is a second chance. This is… I don't know how to live without him, Tony. And there are a lot of people facing the same problem."

For a second, something vulnerable cracked in Tony's eyes, but then it was gone, and he was just holding tight to Morgan again, "I got my second chance right here, Cap. I can't roll the dice again. If you don't talk shop, you can stay for lunch."

Tony and Steve held each other's eyes for a long moment. Sighing, Steve broke contact, "Alright, Tony. We won't talk shop." Steve wasn't sure if the relief on Tony's face was from the fact that they wouldn't bring the plan up again or if it was because they were staying for lunch. Both options hurt.

Steve pushed the thought away and allowed Morgan to grab his hand (he'd had to duck down for her to be able to grab it) and lead him into the house proper. Pepper beamed at him when he came in, "Steve! It's so good to see you!"

"Hey, Pepper," Steve said, pulling the woman into a one-armed hug (his other arm was still trapped in Morgan's grip).

Pepper smirked at him, "I see you've made friends with my daughter."

"Well," Steve laughed, "She's very persuasive."

"Just like her mother," Natasha smiled, hugging Pepper strongly.

"And who might you be?" Pepper asked as Tony walked in with Scott trailing awkwardly behind.

Scott pointed to himself, "Who, me?" Tony and Pepper gave him identical incredulous looks and Steve had to fight a smile. Scott blushed, "Right, right, sorry! Uh, I'm Scott! Scott Lang. Ant Man?"

Pepper smiled charmingly, "Well, hello Scott. It's nice to meet you. I'm Pepper. This is Morgan. And you've already met my husband."

"Yes. We just – uh. Yeah. Yes," Scott said, ending with an awkward half-smile. Steve coughed into his palm to remove the urge to laugh.

Pepper's eyes were sparkling. Morgan was practicing a haughty look of disdain. Tony was using the perfected version. Natasha was rolling his eyes. Steve… Steve felt a little part of his heart piece itself back together.

They sat down to eat.

Before he'd even started eating, Steve told Pepper, "Thank you so much for the meal. Sorry to drop in on your unannounced like this."

"Oh, it's alright. I always make too much anyways," Pepper said, waving a hand.

Tony rolled his eyes and told Steve, "She's not kidding. We end up with leftovers for _days_. I'm like, just halve the recipe dear. But no. Mommy never listens to me, isn't that right, Morgan?"

"It's because she has better ideas," Morgan told him very seriously.

Tony splayed a hand over his chest in mock indignation, "And why do you think that, little girl?"

Morgan blinked innocently at him, "That's what Mommy says."

Pepper snorted into her drink and Scott sighed, "That's what Maggie always tells Cassie. Well, you listen here sweetheart, daddies have very good ideas, too, okay? And yours is very smart. Besides, dads are more fun." He whispered that last bit, leaned over the table so he was on eye-level with Morgan.

Morgan giggled in response, "Who's Cassie?"

"That's my daughter. She's… she's all grown up now. Sixteen years old," Scott said, swallowing slightly as he fell into memories. Steve remembered with a wince that Scott had missed five of those years. Scott physically shook the memories away, grinning at Morgan, "I'll let you know a secret about growing up, though. It's great to grow up! But you'll have the most fun while you're a kid. I mean, look at me, I'm still a kid now! And I have more fun than these losers!" Morgan giggled again and the two of them started some sort of excited conversation.

Pepper and Tony held hands and looked at their daughter fondly. Steve felt his heart clench. He and Spiderman had talked about having kids. Idly. His hand rubbed over the soulmark, over the crushing last words of his soulmate. He didn't even realize he was doing it until he realized Tony was giving him a tragic expression. Steve's eyes widened and he dropped his hand into his lap, squeezing it into a fist under the table.

"So," Pepper began, glancing between the two men carefully, "What have you guys been up to?"

"I've been coordinating with a few others to just… deal with humanity's problems. You know how it is," Natasha said, sending Pepper a wan smile. Pepper sent one back.

Steve cleared his throat slightly and answered, "Sometimes I help Nat out, but most of the time I'm running group therapy sessions. I've got a couple for several different types of issues. I've got an art group therapy class. I like running that one a lot." Tony's eyes skittered to the clearly drawn picture of a heart made out of webs, a spider dangling cutely from the bottom. Steve turned back to Pepper.

Pepper smiled, "That's so sweet! How's the art?"

Steve winced playfully, "Some are… better than others. There's one guy in there that should honestly make a career out of his art. The friend he dragged in with him? Not so much. I mean, I'll never fault someone for trying to get better. God knows I was a wreck when I first started drawing."

"How old were you when you started?" Natasha asked curiously, chin balanced on her hand.

Leaning his head back, Steve thought, "Hm… probably when I started getting sick more often. I mean, you guys know about me, about what I was like before the serum. I was sick all the time. When I got really sick, I'd just stay in the house and draw. We couldn't really afford any sort of board games or anything, but we could normally get some scraps of paper and some pencils."

From next to him, Natasha snorted, "When I was still with SHIELD, I saw your military application. Sorry, _applications_. You had quite the list of health issues."

"Applications?" Scott asked, coming back into the conversation.

Steve blushed, "I, uh, got rejected from the military _several_ times. The only reason I got in in the end was Erskine. Otherwise I kept getting rejected for my health issues."

"What all did you have?" Pepper asked curiously.

Steve blushed again, clearing his throat, "It wasn't really _that_ much."

Delightedly, Natasha informed them, "He had Asthma, Scarlet Fever, Rheumatic Fever, Sinusitis, chronic or frequent colds, high blood pressure, palpitation or pounding in heart, easy fatigability, heart trouble, nervous trouble of any sort, has had household contact with tuberculosis, and parent/sibling with diabetes."

Tony coughed on his drink, "Jesus, Cap. How did you survive to adulthood?"

"Old fashioned remedies. All the weird, old fashioned, _cheap_ remedies we could find," Steve said, wincing in remembrance of some of the stranger ones.

Tony narrowed his eyes at him, "Old fashioned as in what we, today, consider old fashioned? Or old fashioned as in, when you were young, it was old fashioned."

Steve tipped his head to the side, "Both, but, unfortunately, mainly the latter."

Tony coughed into his hand, obviously trying to stifle a laugh, "That's… unfortunate."

"Unfortunate is an understatement. You don't understand how amazing your medical techniques are. I mean, they're still way too expensive, but seriously! Of course, when I don't need to use medicine anymore, it becomes a lot more advanced. Real convenient," Steve groused, waving around his food on his fork.

Pepper burst out laughing, "Sorry, I'm sorry! I just… you're too cute, Steve. I'm sorry."

Steve blushed again, chuckling softly, "Yeah, I get that a lot. Whenever the older ladies in the apartment building had to help me carry the groceries in it and I'd be embarrassed, they'd say the same thing."

Natasha and Tony snorted at the same time. Scott burst into laughter before abruptly cutting it off, "I'm so disillusioned right now."

Steve gave him a concerned glance, but Pepper brought his attention back to her, "Did you ever want to be an artist professionally?"

"No way. Artists don't make nearly enough money. Mom was working several jobs. _I_ was working several jobs just to keep the two of us afloat. Well, during the Great Depression at least. It wasn't so bad during what you call the Roaring 20's. I mean, I was pretty young during that bit," Steve answered, shrugging.

Morgan stared at him with a wide-open mouth, "You're _really_ old."

Startled, Steve laughed, "Yeah, I suppose I am. Nat and your dad make fun of me for it all the time." He ignored Tony's wide-eyed look at his statement.

She narrowed intelligent eyes at him, "You don't _look_ old, though."

Steve smiled gently, "Yeah, well, I'm special that way. I slept for a very long time. I slept for a lifetime, but I didn't age while I slept."

"That sounds really sad," Morgan said.

Gently, Steve reached over Natasha and ruffled Morgan's hair, "It was for a little bit, but I found a great team to make it not so sad anymore."

Pepper let out a wet laugh, but didn't comment on what Steve said, instead just asking, "Anyone want some dessert?"

SSSSSS

Steve stood outside the compound, leaned back up against a wall, trying to control his breathing. That sucked. They were lucky they got the right Scott back at all. What was he thinking? Why did he assume he could do this? This plan was crazy!

He screwed his eyes shut, taking a few more calming breaths. The sound of a fast car broke his concentration. He opened his eyes to see Tony driving into the compound, car zooming straight past Steve before stopping and rolling backwards for a few seconds.

Steve rolled his eyes. Typical Tony, showing off with a dramatic entrance. He wondered when that stopped getting on his nerves. He wasn't sure he'd been amused by something like that since the Civil War. Maybe earlier.

Tony stepped out of the car, raising an eyebrow at Steve, "Why the long face? Let me guess: He turned into a baby."

"Among other things, yeah," Steve answered with a sigh. He nodded towards the car, "What are you doing here?" It sounded harsher than he'd been intending, but his emotions were out of whack at the moment. (They'd been out of whack since Spiderman died).

Tony completely ignored him, walking towards the trunk of his car, "That's the EPR paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might've wound up pushing time through Lang. It's tricky. Dangerous. Somebody should have cautioned you against it." He gave Steve an expectant look over his sunglasses.

Steve managed something approaching a smile, "You did."

Head tilting to the side in faux shock, Tony asked, "Oh, did I? Thank God I'm here. Regardless, I fixed it. A fully functioning Time-Space GPS. I just want peace. Turns out, resentment is corrosive, and I hate it."

Steve sighed, "Me too."

"We got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities. Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs. And… maybe not die trying would be nice," Tony added.

Laughing, Steve nodded and held out his hand, "Sounds like a deal."

Tony fixed him with a small smile before reaching into the trunk of his car. He glanced at Steve for a moment, hesitating, before he pulled out the Captain America shield. Steve felt his heart stop in his throat. He… he hadn't used that shield for seven years. He looked at Stark, "Tony, I…"

Tony shook his head, "I want you to have it."

"I hate to ask this, but why? What does this mean?" Steve said. Without waiting for an answer, he gingerly lifted the shield from Tony's hands, fitting his arm in carefully. It fit perfectly.

Tony waved a hand in front of his face, "Honestly, I've got to get it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding." Steve shot Tony a look, not letting him get away with blustering his way out of the conversation this time. Tony grimaced at him, but answered honestly, "The kid would want you to have it. And… maybe it's a sign. Maybe I'm _starting_ to trust you again. We're not back to full strength or anything like that. But, maybe. Maybe we're getting there. Maybe I'm ready to start getting there. Having a kid really does wonders for maturity, honestly."

Steve hesitated for a moment, not sure if his words would be taken kindly, before admitting, "Spidey and I… we talked about it. Adopting kids, I mean. I know we both started researching into programmes where you can adopt mutant kids."

Taking a deep breath, Tony sent Steve a strained (but truly, beautifully, genuine) smile, "Well, maybe you'll get a chance."

"You think so?" Steve asked, voice neutral.

Eyes flicking towards Steve's, Tony said, "I know what you're fishing for here. I'm not ready to be giving you permission or whatever. I'm not even really the person you should be asking for permission. I'm not the kid's dad. And I'm not… I _can't_ talk about him. Not yet. I don't… not yet. You've gotta earn that. Deal?"

Steve smiled (it was the closest he'd gotten to a real smile since Thanos snapped away the love of Steve's life), "Deal."

SSSSSS

Steve hadn't wanted to deal with the explosion of the compound. Steve hadn't wanted to fight Thanos. Steve hadn't wanted to pick up Mjolnir. Steve hadn't wanted to tighten his shield on his arm, standing up to face Thanos, to face his 'children,' the Chitauri, the Outriders.

All he'd wanted to do was rip his shirt off and see if his soulmate was back to it's normal red, white, and blue.

He'd expected to be able to feel something. He'd certainly felt something when Spiderman died. He had thought it would be the same when Spiderman came back. But it wasn't. There was nothing in Steve's soul that felt healed, that felt whole again. He didn't know if Spiderman was alive. Did it work? What if, somehow, Spiderman wasn't brought back?

But he couldn't think like that. Not right then. Not when he was the only thing standing between Thanos and the world. Thanos looked at him, ugly sneer plastered across his face, "In all my years of conquest… of violence… of _slaughter_ … it was never personal. But I'll tell you now… what I'm about to do to your _stubborn_ , _annoying_ , planet… I'm going to enjoy it. Very, _very_ much."

Steve swallowed. He stood a little taller. He couldn't win this fight. He wouldn't be able to win against Thanos alone, let alone the enormous army that Thanos had called to him. Steve didn't stand a chance.

And then his communicator crackled. He blinked; who could that possibly be? His heart stopped in his throat when Sam said, " _Cap, can you hear me?_ " He couldn't even respond. Was this? Was this real? Sam continued, " _Cap, it's Sam. Can you hear me?_ " When Steve still didn't respond, Sam said, " _On your left_."

Mouth hanging open, Steve watched some glowing circle thing pop up. It expanded until, incredibly, T'Challa was standing there, Okoye and Shuri on either side. Behind him, there was an entire _army_ of Wakandans, standing tall and proud. How… how was that possible? How could they be there? Steve could see in front and behind the portal (for what else could it be?) and there was _nothing_ behind it. That was incredible.

What was even more incredible was the feeling when Sam _flew_ out of the portal. Steve put a hand to his mouth, something in his _soul_ unclenching at the sight. As he watched, _dozens_ more portals opened up. Warriors from every race, species, type were standing there, fierce expressions on their faces. Steve's eyes zipped passed Bucky (oh thank God Bucky was alive, that's all Steve could ask), Groot, more Wakandans, Wanda, Pepper (in an Iron Suit of all things), the woman Scott had called Hope, Valkyrie and the Asgardians (prepared for battle, appearances as glorious and regal and powerful as if they'd never left their kingdom in the first place), what Rocket had described as Raiders, a group of people wielding some sort power that _appeared_ to be magic.

He saw a portal open that showed Doctor Strange, floating in the air, cape swirling dramatically behind him. Rocket's team stood behind him, Star Lord, Mantis, and Drax if Steve remembered Rocket's stories correctly.

And there… flipping to the front of the group with all the grace and flare he was known for… was Spiderman.

Steve really felt his heart stop in that moment. It was Spiderman. It was _Spiderman_.

For one short, glorious moment, the two made eye contact. Steve wanted to run to him, to hug him, to pull him to his side and never let go. Spiderman's mask snapped back out of his way and he grinned at Steve, bright and beautiful and full of so much love that Steve felt like he could just overflow with it.

They were perfectly in-tune. They were perfectly matched. With a shared grin (filled with elation, with joy, with pure happiness, with more love than Steve knew what to do with), they both turned back to the battle. Steve called into the sudden silence, "Avengers!"

He shared one more grin with Spiderman, revelling in the giddy smile on Spiderman's face before he finished, " _Assemble_."

As one, they charged.

Even though the battle was chaos on a level that Steve had never experienced before, he was always hyper-aware of Spiderman's position. It was imprinted in the back of his mind, pressed there like a homing device, comfortably nestled in his mind.

His heart almost stopped when Spiderman got the Infinity Gauntlet and a large portion of Thanos's troops instantly centred in on him. He didn't need to worry because Spiderman _decimated_. He left behind a trail of dead aliens, swinging and hopping from place to place, fighting with a preternatural grace that astounded Steve. God, he was so beautiful.

He heard Spiderman scream out behind him, "Help! Somebody help!" Steve wasn't close enough. He wasn't close enough to help.

Steve's breath stuck in panic, but he saw Pepper flying in. Frantically, he waved his arms to get her attention. She glanced over at him and looked over to where he was pointing. She nodded to Steve as soon as she saw Spiderman. Steve called out to his love, "Hey, Queens! Heads up." Just as Spiderman turned to look at him, Pepper snatched him up and away from the aliens dogpiling him. Steve could breathe again.

And then Tony was holding up a fist full of Infinity Stones and delivering some dramatic line like the loser he was and no, Tony, no, you can't survive that please don't do this we can defeat him some other way no one has to die Tony, no _please_.

 _Snap_.

Steve breathed hard in the empty silence after the horrible battle. He locked eyes with Thanos as the man ( _monster_ ) realized his fate and collapsed into a sitting position, accepting his death with a bowed head.

Numbly, Steve turned his head towards where Tony was. Spiderman was curled as close to Tony as he could. They were having some sort of conversation that Steve couldn't quite hear (and wouldn't listen to anyways. Steve wouldn't interrupt this, never this. He wouldn't take away this last moment). But when Spiderman started crying, pulled gently into a backwards hug by Rhodey and Pepper, Steve moved forward.

He brushed them aside as gently as he could. He gripped Spiderman, pulling him into as much of a hug as he could while Spiderman was still crying and gripping Tony's suit. There was a brief flash as Spiderman's shoulder brushed against Steve's mark. He could _feel_ the touch washing away the last taints of death that had lingered on the mark, renewing it and giving Steve that feeling of _whole_ that he'd been missing. Even as his heart broke watching Tony slowly succumb in front of him, Steve felt himself healing.

Voice choked with emotion, Steve whispered, "Tony…" Spiderman sobbed in Steve's arms.

Tony offered as much of a smile as he could, one half of his face horribly burned by the Infinity Stones, "Steve."

Steve reached around Spiderman, gripping Tony's other hand, "Tony, I…" He didn't know what to say.

Shaking his head, Tony spoke slowly and carefully, "Just… wait Steve. Let me. I… wanted to do something. Guess this is my last chance. Steve… meet… Spiderman. Or, also known as… my intern… Peter Parker."

 **Author's Note: One more chapter left! I swear the next chapter will have a happier ending! Happy endings for the win! Thank you guys so much for reading this!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: This is the last chapter! There's a whole lot less movie quotes in this one (if any?)! I hope you guys like it! Make sure to drop a review to let me know what you think! Read, review, and enjoy!**

PPPPPP

Peter hadn't been expecting to wake up. Not after going all dusty. That, uh, hadn't really been pleasant? It was also super strange since no one else seemed to have as trash of an experience as he did. Not that he wanted it to suck as much for everyone else! It just really sucked that he, like, _felt_ himself dissolving into dust particles? Not a fun way to go. Do not recommend.

But he was alive! And it had been five years? And the last thing Peter had written to Steve was an apology for dying. Jeez. That must have been awful for Steve. Peter didn't feel any new writing, so Steve must have thought he was dead since he didn't even attempt to write anything to Peter. That really sucked for Steve.

But then he saw Steve! He was covered in dirt and grime and had his shield (he had his shield back! Did that mean that Steve and Mr. Stark were on speaking terms again?). Peter and Steve totally had a moment. One of the most beautiful things in Peter's life would be seeing the way his soulmate's face lit up when he saw Peter. It was beautiful. Peter loved Steve so much.

And then everything went downhill _really_ quickly. Thanos was there, but he looked a whole lot different than he had before. He didn't have the infinity gauntlet either. Oh, wait. It had been five years. Right, right. So why did Thanos look younger? When it had been five years? Maybe that was just his alien biology. So cool.

The really inconvenient part was that Thanos had an army with him. A really, really big army. Like, even with all of the people that popped out of the yellow sparkly things that Doctor Strange and his friends made, it was still Lord of the Rings odds. But they could do it! Because they were the good guys! And they had a lot of really powerful people on their side. Captain America was leading them (and that Avengers Assemble thing he did? So. Cool.) and there were aliens and stuff. Plus, the Wakandan army was actually one of the best things Peter had ever seen in his life. They could do this.

Then Peter somehow ended up with the infinity gauntlet (he couldn't help the voice in his head that was freaking out – the infinity gauntlet was probably the strongest thing in the universe and Peter almost dropped it) which was kind of cool until all the scary aliens started crawling at him. It was less cool then.

But then all those ladies showed up to protect him! Go women's power! And, like, Peter wasn't really checking any of them out because he only had eyes for Steve, but that was one attractive bunch of ladies. And they looked awesome with the dramatic walking and stuff. Especially the blonde one with the short hair. That one was especially awesome.

(Peter might, possibly, still have a concussion from before he went all dusty. It was totally unfair that his concussion technically lasted five years).

And then everything went as far downhill as it possibly could. Mr. Stark had used the infinity gauntlet. That… Peter didn't know much about the infinity gauntlet, but he knew enough to know that normal (breakable) humans weren't supposed to use it.

The battle was over, and Peter felt his heart stop when he realized that Mr. Stark was just lying there amongst the rubble, a burn scattered up his arm, over his face. It wasn't fair. Why was this happening? Why couldn't Peter have stopped this? He had his powers. He should have been the one to do that snap. Not Mr. Stark. Never Mr. Stark.

He rushed over as soon as he could, slamming to his knees in the dirt in front of Mr. Stark, already tearing up, "Mr. Stark? Hey… Mr. Stark? Can you hear me? It's Peter. We won. Mr. Stark… We won, Mr. Stark. We won and you did it, sir. You did it." He wasn't answering. Why wasn't he answering? His eyes were open!

Then (thankfully), Mr. Stark coughed a little bit, eyes focusing in on Peter, "Hey, Underoos."

"Hey, Mr. Stark," Peter responded with a wet chuckle.

Mr. Stark grimaced as playfully as he could, "Told you… to call me Tony."

"Where would the fun be in that?" Peter asked, trying to corral his lips into some sort of smile. It ended up a lot wobblier than he'd wanted.

Coughing out a laugh, Mr. Stark said, "Hey, kid. I gotta talk to you."

"Okay. But I really think that maybe you should go to a hospital first. Or something like that. Some sort of medical facility?" Peter rambled. Mr. Stark was going to be okay. He was _going_ to be okay.

Peter's eyes filled with tears again.

Mr. Stark smiled at him, "Yeah, probably. People… have to pull themselves… together first, anyway. I'm fine… for now." He drifted off a little, eyes going glassy.

Biting his lip, Peter tried to pull him back, "Mr. Stark? What were you going to tell me?"

Blinking, Mr. Stark squinted at him, "Right. Peter, kid, I care about you _so much_. You know me, I… wasn't a dad. But I am now. I've got a… little girl. And I hadn't realized until you… were gone, until we had Morgan, but… you were my first kid. I… don't know if you feel that way. I know… your Aunt was… not pleased that I took you… to space. But you feel… like you're my first kid. And I want you to… meet Morgan. And I want to… do more bonding stuff. Be… legit this time. No more… hands off, let you make your own mistakes, try to head you off… from the ones I've made. But… I don't think… I'll be able to do that."

"Don't say that!" Peter interrupted hotly, eyes watering again, "Don't you dare! You can't leave me. You can't. Mr. Stark, _please_." Mortifyingly, he could feel tears streaking down his face, plopping thickly onto the grim and blood-spattered ground (had he just fought in a war? How many aliens had he just killed? In the back of his mind, something screamed at the feeling of alien blood slinking down his suit).

Distantly, he was aware of Pepper or Rhodey (or both or neither or did it really matter anymore?) pulling him away from where Mr. Stark was gazing off into the distance again. Distantly, he was aware of someone else gently extracting him from their grip, pulling him into their own (a part of him burned with joy at the brush of an arm against his soulmark, sending blinding _comfort_ through him as Steve held him for the first time) arms. He was full-out sobbing at that point, gone to the grief wracking his body.

Behind him, Steve's voice broke, "Tony…" Peter couldn't help the way his breath hitched, the sobs coming out more because this wasn't the way Peter wanted Steve to hold him for the first time. He didn't want to need to be held up in his grief.

Mr. Stark focused back in on them, eyes a little glassy, but smile as real as he could manage, "Steve."

Steve swallowed harshly, Adam's apple bobbing against Peter's hairline, "Tony, I…" He trailed off. Peter didn't know what else he would have said, wasn't sure that anything else _could_ be said in this situation.

Mr. Stark shook his head, swallowing convulsively for a few moments before he finally managed to push out, "Just… wait, Steve. Let me. I… wanted to do something. Guess this is my last chance. Steve… meet… Spiderman. Or, also known as… my intern… Peter Parker."

Peter's head whipped up, almost clipping Steve's chin. His mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide, tears still building in them. Was Mr. Stark really saying what he thought he was? Steve stuttered, "I… Tony, what? Is this… Thank you. _Thank you_ , Tony."

"Mr. Stark," Peter breathed. He was giving them his blessing. He was saying that he was done letting Peter and Steve's relationship come between the three of them. He was saying that he approved. He was saying that he trusted Steve with Peter. He was saying more than Peter could have ever hoped for.

The tears welling in his eyes spilled over and Peter found himself helplessly crying again, "You're going to be okay, Mr. Stark. You're going to be okay."

Gently, Steve pulled him away, letting Pepper kneel as close to Mr. Stark as she could, pressing their foreheads together and whispering sweetly to him. Peter put a frantic hand to his mouth, grappling blindly with his other one until Steve grabbed it, holding Peter's hand so tightly that it would have broken it if he wasn't a superhero. Carefully, Steve rubbed a thumb in small circles over Peter's knuckles, resting his chin on Peter's head.

Trying to blink in the tears (and failing because this was horrible, this was the worst, this was Ben all over again), Peter whirled around frantically, _throwing_ himself into Steve's arms, feeling guilty for the startled 'oof' Steve let out. He trapped their conjoined hands between the two of them, wrapping the other one as far around Steve as he could possibly manage.

Steve sighed softly, wrapping his own free hand around Peter's back, dropping the gentlest kiss on Peter's head.

That was the breaking point. Peter broke down then. He was just a kid. He'd just fought in a war – killed in a war. The person he looked up to (mentor, friend, father-figure all rolled into one slightly broken package) was dying on the ground. He had sacrificed himself to save the world – to save the planet. It wasn't fair. It should have been Peter. He'd had the infinity gauntlet. He could have done it. He could have put it on and snapped. He had superpowers. He would have been able to handle the blast better than Mr. Stark would have. He failed Mr. Stark. He'd failed him the same way he'd failed Ben. He was such a failure.

Peter honestly blanked out a little bit.

When he next was really aware of his surroundings, he could hear Steve whispering comforting words into his hair, "It's okay, Peter. Everything is going to be okay. Helen Cho is helping him out. She's the best doctor we have. They've got Shuri in there too. The two of them have got to be two of the best healers in the world. Pepper is in there with Tony right now. She won't let him slip away. You know how stubborn that woman is. It's going to be alright. It's okay, Peter."

"You said my name," Peter croaked, not really sure he said the words until Steve stiffened under him.

After a second, Steve untensed, voice soft, "Yeah, I did. I love you, Peter."

Peter curled into Steve (where were they?), "I love you too, Steve." He laughed harshly, his very soul hurt, "Sorry I made this first _real_ meeting so awful."

"You know that was Thanos. You did nothing wrong, Peter. Don't ever think that. Besides, if we can support each other through something like this, then we can get through anything," Steve answered instantly.

"I'm not doing anything to support you, though," Peter pointed out, voice small. God, how was he already messing this up?

Steve smiled into Peter's hair, "Peter, you're alive and you're letting me hold you. After you being dead for five years, that's all I need."

Peter winced in sympathy, offering a sincere, "Sorry."

"Again, that was Thanos. I really don't think you need to apologize for being the half of the population that was randomly wiped out. It sucks that you were, but it's not your fault, okay?" Steve asked, holding Peter a little tighter.

"Okay," Peter whispered.

"I love you," Steve said again, voice choked and rough, broken in a way Peter couldn't really understand.

"I love you too," Peter whispered. His voice was a little broken too.

PPPPPP

Mr. Stark survived.

It was some of the best news Peter had ever heard. He'd spent much of the last few days sleeping. Apparently going straight from dead to intergalactic battle really took it out of you. Who knew?

Hearing that Mr. Stark was alive woke Peter right up, though. He embraced Happy (the one unfortunate enough to be tasked with telling Peter) before dancing away. Not only did hearing that Mr. Stark was alive wake up him physically, it woke him up mentally, too. Or, well, something like that.

Peter ran through the halls of the medical facility they'd all ended up recuperating in. He _knew_ he could hear Steve laughing somewhere in the building, but he wasn't _entirely_ sure where. Somewhere in this direction? Nope, the sound was getting quieter. Quickly, Peter backtracked to the turn he made and went the other direction. The grin on his face grew brighter as Steve's voice finally started to get louder.

He was maybe a hallway away when he heard Steve say fondly, "Yeah, he's asleep right now."

The Winter Soldier responded sarcastically, "Surprised you're not in there with him."

Falcon snorted, "You serious? They're both literally as innocent as they could possibly get."

There was a shrug in the Winter Soldier's voice when he said, "I just meant that Steve could spend some time with him, is all. My mind didn't go straight to the gutter."

"What? Sitting in the same room as a sleeping person was a normal thing to do in your time?" Falcon asked incredulously.

Peter didn't wait around for them to talk anymore. He launched into the room, obviously surprising the three (which, probably not a good idea to surprise a room full of superheroes, but, you know, whatever). He didn't care. Peter kept running, literally throwing himself at Steve when he finally got to the man.

He delighted in the full body laugh Steve let out when he caught Peter. Grinning, Peter looked up at Steve, "Hi!"

"Hey there. How are you doing?" Steve asked, eyes crinkled in the corners, expression unbearably soft.

Peter nestled his head in under to Steve's chin, "Good! Mr. Stark is going to make it! And I'm here! With you! Also, probably embarrassing myself and being overly presumptuous, but, you know, whatever. That's okay. Embarrassing myself is my base setting. Whatever. Hi! I'm probably also embarrassing you in front of your friends, I'm so sorry. I'm just really excited to actually be in the same room as you. And be able to talk to you. Without, like, fighting. With you or against you since those are pretty much our only two interactions so far. Not that that's anyone's fault! I'm just, um, mentioning that."

Steve chuckled again, warm and bright, "Glad to know your adorable rambles aren't only in writing."

"Ugh, there is no way you thought that was adorable. That was so awkward," Peter complained.

"Cute awkward," Steve argued, tightening his arms around Peter. Peter didn't mind.

Behind them, Falcon made a gagging sound, "I didn't think anything in the world was more disgustingly cute than Steve making googly eyes at words on his skin, but this tops it. This _really_ , _really_ tops it." The Winter Soldier snorted (! Ned would freak when he heard that). Peter ducked to hide his face more fully in Steve's chest.

Steve laughed, "Peter, these are my friends, Bucky and Sam. Guys, this is Peter."

"Wow, really, wouldn't have guessed from how much you talk about him," Bucky said, voice flat.

The tips of his ears bright red, Peter looked back out towards the other two, arms still around Steve (it felt so good to be able to hold his soulmate after two years of being denied any sort of comfort), "Hi."

Sam smiled at him, face just as warm and open as Steve's, "Hey man. How are you doing?"

"Good. Better now. I don't think I've slept that much in a _long_ time," Peter answered.

"You needed it," Steve said, hand warm where it rubbed up and down over Peter's arm.

Bucky's nose wrinkled at the action, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're right, Wilson. They are disgustingly cute. Also apparently not interested in moving. I'm out."

Steve rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Really Buck?" Bucky sent him a frankly ludicrous wink before _sauntering_ out of the room, an annoyed Sam trotting at his heels.

Peter blinked, "Your friends are nice."

Steve snorted out a laugh, "Yeah, yeah they are. They're the best. It'd be nice to meet your friends sometime. Have you gotten a chance to contact them at all? I know you've been a little busy and then you were recovering."

Peter's face fell, "Oh no. Aunt May is going to _kill_ me. I haven't even gotten a chance to see who all got dusted when I did. I don't know who's going to be five years older and who's not. May told me to not do any alien things. That was part of her rules when she found out I was Spiderman. I've broken it several times now. And I didn't even call her before _or_ after!"

Smiling, Steve reached over for a cup, bringing it to his lips and drinking before he spoke, "I'm sure she'll understand. You're a good kid overall."

Looking up at Steve's face, Peter suddenly grew serious, "Why is this so easy?"

Steve's eyebrows rose, "I'm not really sure what part you're saying was _easy_ , but -,"

Peter interrupted him, "No, not – not any of _that_. I mean, like, this. Why is this between us so easy. It's like we're just writing each other, but we're here in person and it should be awkward and stuff because I always manage to make stuff awkward, but we're fitting so perfectly and it's not awkward at all and I just don't get it." The conversation Peter made with Steve was easier than that he'd ever made with someone else. And, sure, they were soulmates which meant that they were fated to be together, but that didn't guarantee an easy transition from writing to in person. And, sure, they'd been talking about and dreaming about this moment for the past two years (seven, technically, and Peter ached at the thought of Steve living those five years alone), but that didn't mean anything really. This was too easy, and Peter hated himself for being suspicious.

Steve tilted his head back contemplatively, "I don't know. I suppose because we've earned it. We've certainly been through our fair share of trauma to be able to get here." Peter let out a wet laugh. Instantly, Steve was concerned, "Hey, you okay buddy?"

Peter sniffled, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just… emotions are kinda going all over the place the last couple days." He peeked up at Steve, "I really like it when you say my name."

"I like being able to say it," Steve said, smirk pulling up one edge of his lips.

Abruptly, Peter blurted, "I'm sorry about, about the last words I wrote. The ones where I apologized for dying. I, uh, I really thought I was dying. Well, I did die. I thought I was going to _stay_ dead, I mean. That was kind of, I don't know. Sorry, I guess."

"Hey," Steve shrugged, "Even's even. I did the same thing to you back in '45. I can't really blame you for following in my footprints."

"You _could_ ," Peter protested, a smirk forming around his own lips, "But you're too nice for that."

"Oh yeah?" Steve asked, laughing. Peter nodded, grin taking over his face again.

Smile fading a little bit, Peter asked carefully, "Do you… do you want to talk about it? What I wrote? The years where I was… where I was gone?"

Steve took a careful breath, pressing a steadying hand against the small of Peter's back, "Yeah, but… not right now. Someday, for sure. Just, not today."

"I get that," Peter said softly.

Letting out a small, shuddering breath, Steve smiled back, "I'll bet. Why don't we just spend today together? The two of us. We'll call your aunt tonight, alright?"

"Alright," Peter said.

PPPPPP

Settling back into life was simultaneously easier and harder than Peter had expected it to be. On the one hand, literally half of all life everywhere had died. With everyone equally effected and with everyone equally recovering, it was easy to slip back into a rebuilding world.

What was harder was dealing with the emotional aftermath of the snap – of _both_ snaps. May hadn't snapped. She had seen him disappear onto a space ship through the television and then the next thing she knew, Mr. Stark had come to her door, telling her that Peter hadn't made it. She had been well and truly alone. It broke Peter's heart that he hadn't been there for her.

It sounded like Pepper and Mr. Stark took care of her, but it had still been hard. Between Ben's death and Peter's, May had it hard. And then Peter had waited so long to call her (he'd been grounded for _weeks_ after that whole fiasco).

She hadn't wanted to let him out of her sight and Steve hadn't wanted to let Peter out of his sight and Mr. Stark (when he woke up) didn't want to let Peter out of _his_ sight, so Peter had ended up awkwardly living at Mr. Stark's medical facility with May and Steve in bedrooms on either side of him and Mr. Stark just a hall over. They spent the next few days all tripping over each other in one of the _strangest_ fights for possessions that Peter had _ever_ seen.

Sure, he understood that, out of the four of them, Peter had been the only one who didn't survive Thanos, but the three of them looked like they were ready to throwdown over who got his attention. It was kind of bizarre.

And everyone totally understood that there were limits. May was Peter's _everything_ because she was _May_ and she was all he had left of his family, so Steve and Tony knew that they couldn't really interfere there. But May and Tony recognized that Steve was Peter's soulmate and they'd been denied each other for two (seven) years. Tony had even told the two of them that he approved of their relationship, so he definitely couldn't interfere there. And May and Steve both recognized that Peter loved Mr. Stark like he was family and that Peter was still horribly worried about him and his health, so they didn't interfere there.

It meant that everyone was hovering at the same time and trying to not be super obvious about it, so they didn't step on anyone else's toes. It was annoying and endearing at the same time.

One day, Peter found himself alone with Doctor Strange of all people, ranting to him, "And I just don't know what to do! I'm pretty sure they're _actually_ going to fight at some point. I'm getting that vibe."

Doctor Strange was giving him a desperately startled look like he wished he was _anywhere_ but acting as a therapist to a recently dead arachnid-themed super-teenager. With his pinched expression, Doctor Strange eventually sighed, "Maybe you should tell all of _them_ that instead of telling me. I've heard proper communication works wonders."

Peter was pretty sure he was being sarcastic, but it was still pretty good advice. So, he smiled at Doctor Strange and hopped off the counter, armed with a juice box, "Thanks!" Doctor Strange only sighed in response.

Carefully, Peter crept back into the living room where Steve, May, and Tony were all gathered, expression vaguely concerned.

May's whole body slumped with relief when she saw him, "Hey sweetie. We were worried when we realized you weren't in here."

Peter grimaced, "Um, actually, could I talk to you guys? All three of you?"

They blinked at him. Eventually, Steve said, "Sure thing. What do you need to talk about?" He patted the seat next to him, but Mr. Stark and May had both moved over to make room for him next to them at the same time.

Sighing, Peter flung out an arm, "That! That's what I need to talk about! Look, I get that I was dead for five years," They all flinched, and Peter felt guilty, but he was on a roll now and he couldn't stop, "But that's not an excuse. For me, it was, like, no time at all. And I come back, and you guys are all treating me like I am actually in the process of dying. I'm not dying. I'm okay now. I'm back. It's alright. And the worst part is the way you're all passive-aggressively fighting over me! May, you are my aunt and you are my family and you are my everything. You have to know that. I love you _so much_ and I will never leave you willingly, okay? Mr. Stark, I look up to you so much and I won't ever give up on you. I love being your intern and you've come to feel like a father to me. Morgan is awesome by the way. We've totally bonded. Steve, I love you with every bit of my heart. You are the love of my life and I am so, so grateful that we are finally together. But you guys need to back off a little bit. I'm suffocating over here. And I really, really, didn't want to say anything, but I'm kind of trying to adjust to the fact that I've been dead for five years and the world has literally stopped functioning for five years. Literally everything is so messed up right now and I'm trying really hard to process it and you guys aren't making it easier. I know that you're only doing it because you all have your own trauma over this event, but, um. Yeah. You know."

The three of them stared at him blankly for a second. Then May opened his arms to him. Breathing out a shaky little breath, Peter fell into her arms, curling up in there and pretending he was still a little kid. May whispered into the silent room, "Anything for you, sweetie. I'm not going to stop hovering because I've always been a hover-parent. You know that. But I'll be sneakier about it. And I'll give you a chance to be with the other two people who need you, okay? I'm just not so used to sharing you anymore and, well, your death really broke my heart kid."

"We'll all get better," Steve declared, voice firm and serious, "We love you, Peter. Making you feel better will make us feel better. Anyway you want us to do that will work for me." The two of them shared a soft smile, the kind that absolutely melted Peter's heart.

Mr. Stark was the last to speak, eyes serious, "Well, we all know that May can hover enough for the three of us." He shared a quick laugh with them before saying, "Like Steve said, anything I can do for you, I'll do. I'm not letting you go again. Okay, kid?"

"Yeah, okay," Peter mumbled. He was so lucky to be surrounded by all of these guys.

PPPPPP

Carefully, Peter edged the door open. He'd knocked and no one had responded. There had been a light on, though, and Steve had told him he was welcome whenever he wanted to come over.

He bit his lip at the sight of Steve curled over the desk, one arm cradling his head while the other fell limply over the side of the desk. The light from the room mixed and mingled with the warm yellow glow of the desk lamp that bathed Steve's hair in golden light, lighting up the strands into bright, burnished gold.

Steve was in his pyjamas, a pair of soft-looking sweatpants sitting just at the edges of his hips, no shirt covering the full expanse of rippling muscles and (somehow) more beautifully, the expanse of conversations.

Peter inched closer at the sight of Steve's soulmark, Peter's small chicken scratch outlining it. Hesitantly, carefully, Peter reached out to the soulmark, lightly pressing his fingertips to it. The soulmark pulsed at the touch, sending Peter a feeling of safety and warmth, the soft feeling of Steve's hand clutching his own. Steve made a happy little sigh in his sleep.

Ducking his head, Peter smiled. He shook his head fondly at Steve's sprawled out state over the desk. That wouldn't do. Steve needed to rest in a real bed if he was going to be anywhere close to comfortable.

Gently, Peter eased Steve out of his chair, cradling the man in a bride hold (even after all this time with his powers, it was slightly ludicrous to Peter that he was able to hold his much heavier, much bigger soulmate in his arms like he weight nothing). Just as gently, he eased the man into his bed, settling him over the sheets at first because he'd forgotten to pull them back.

Biting his lips again, Peter slowly tugged the sheets out from under Steve, just as slowly settling them back over Steve's sleeping form. He didn't move once. It should have worried Peter that Steve was so unresponsive to someone moving him in his sleep, but somehow, Peter knew that it was their soulbond that allowed Steve to sleep so deeply through the encounter.

After a second, Peter slowly moved around to the other side of the bed. He'd come into the room initially because he'd woken up from a nightmare and had desperately needed Steve. Back when they were separated, Peter would just have to write a message and hope that Steve was in a time zone that meant he was still awake. Now, all Peter had to do was walk one room over.

They'd talked about this and they'd decided that they were fine with sleeping in the same bed as each other as long as that was all they were doing, but they'd kept their own separate rooms while in Mr. Stark's facilities because it was kind of weird to sleep together with Mr. Stark and May in the same building.

But Peter _needed_ Steve's comfort and Steve wasn't awake at the moment to give it. Peter was going to have to take it where he could get it.

So, he slid into the bed on the other side, carefully curling up behind Steve, wrapping one arm over Steve's ribcage, pressing his fingers back against the mark. The other arm he left curled up between them, the knuckle of his thumb pressed into his own soulmark.

He fell asleep curled up against his love.

When he woke, it was to the soft feeling of breath stirring his hair. Steve was still asleep, but he'd turned at some point in the night. Peter's forehead was practically resting on Steve's chin and their hands were intertwined between their chests, the only barrier between them. Their other hands were thrown over each other's waists.

Blinking, Peter raised his head back, just taking a moment to look at Steve, to admire him. Smiling softly, slowly, Peter dropped a kiss against the hand tangled in his own. He whispered into Steve's neck, "You are the perfect match for me. I would never change the way we met or the way we fell in love. I love you, Steve. More than anything, I love you."

And Steve, barely awake, tightened his grip on Peter's hand and whispered, "I love you, Peter."

 **Author's Note: IT'S OVER! I love this story to pieces, but I am so glad it's done. Also, in case anyone was wondering, I had fully intended to kill Tony off, but enough people asked me to keep him alive that I felt pressured to comply :P Kidding, but not really. Let me know what you thought about the story!**


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